I'm not so sure 'at I wor reight i' wishin' it. At ony rate I wish he'd waited till I wor i' my grave and i' peace. Sich a tewin' and a bustlin' as I've had this last fortnit's enow to mak' a saint sweer. And them two women—idle hussies 'at does nowt but talk and stand about and hinder a body 'at's trying to do summut! Eighteenpence a day, and their meat, and a pint o' ale to their dinners—aye, marry, I wonder what they'll ax next! Theer's ivery room i' t' house to sweep and dust, and me throng as Throp's wife and doesn't knaw which way to turn—and theer ye are, maister, come to get in t' way, I reckon."
"I shan't be here long, Mally," said Hepworth. "I want a bit of dinner and then I'm off to Sicaster, out of your way."
"Ye mud as weel ha' gone into Sicaster for your dinner," said Mally. "It's a poor time for dinners wi' t' house turned upside down and a couple o' bone-idle women i' t' road."
"Well, a bit of bread-and-cheese 'll do,
