“Hast got it, Dummie?” said she, quickly, as she closed the door on the guest.
“Noa, noa! not exactly — but I thinks as ‘ow ⸺”
“Pish, you fool!” cried the woman, interrupting him, peevishly: “Vy, it is no use desaving of me. You knows you has only stepped from my boosing ken to another, and you has not been arter the book at all. So there’s the poor cretur a-raving and a-dying, and you ⸺”
“Let I speak!” interrupted Dummie in his turn. “I tells you I vent first to Mother Bussblone’s, who, I knows, chops the whiners morning and evening to the young ladies, and I axes there for a Bible, and she says, says she, ‘I ’as only a “Companion to the Halter!” but you’ll get a Bible, I think, at Master Talkins, — the cobbler — as preaches.’ So I goes to Master Talkins, and he says, says he, ‘I ’as no call for the Bible, ’cause vy, I ’as a call vithout; but mayhap you’ll be a-getting it at the butcher’s hover the vay — ’cause vy? — the butcher’ll be damned!’ So I goes hover the vay, and the butcher says, says he, ‘I ’as not a Bible, but I ’as a book of plays bound for all the vorld just like ’un, and mayhap the poor cretur mayn’t see the difference.’ So I takes the plays, Mrs. Margery, and here they be surely! — And how’s poor Judy?”
“Fearsome! she’ll not be over the night; I’m a-thinking.”
“Vell, I’ll track up the dancers!”