I don't know why I sing that song; I don't love it.
DOBSON.
Blessings on your pretty voice, Miss Dora. Wheer did they larn ye
that?
DORA.
In Cumberland, Mr. Dobson.
DOBSON.
An' how did ye leaeve the owd uncle i' Coomberland?
DORA.
Getting better, Mr. Dobson. But he'll never be the same man again.
DOBSON.
An' how d'ye find the owd man 'ere?
DORA.
As well as ever. I came back to keep his birthday.
DOBSON.
Well, I be coomed to keep his birthdaaey an' all. The owd man be
heighty to-daaey, beaent he?
DORA.
Yes, Mr. Dobson. And the day's bright like a friend, but the wind east
like an enemy. Help me to move this bench for him into the sun. (_They
move bench_.) No, not that way--here, under the apple tree. Thank you.
Look how full of rosy blossom it is.
[_Pointing to apple tree_.
DOBSON.
Theer be redder blossoms nor them, Miss Dora.
DORA.
Where do they blow, Mr. Dobson?
DOBSON.
Under your eyes, Miss Dora.
DORA.
Do they?
DOBSON.
And your eyes be as blue as----
DORA.
What, Mr. Dobson? A butcher's frock?
DOBSON.
Noae, Miss Dora; as blue as----
DORA.
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