Do you want them back again?
DOBSON.
Noae, noae! Keep 'em. But I hed a word to saaey to ye.
DORA.
Why, Farmer, you should be in the hayfield looking after your men; you
couldn't have more splendid weather.
DOBSON.
I be a going theer; but I thowt I'd bring tha them roses fust. The
weather's well anew, but the glass be a bit shaaeky. S'iver we've led
moaest on it.
DORA.
Ay! but you must not be too sudden with it either, as you were last
year, when you put it in green, and your stack caught fire.
DOBSON.
I were insured, Miss, an' I lost nowt by it. But I weaent be too sudden
wi' it; and I feel sewer, Miss Dora, that I ha' been noaen too sudden
wi' you, fur I ha' sarved for ye well nigh as long as the man sarved
for 'is sweet'art i' Scriptur'. Weaent ye gi'e me a kind answer at
last?
DORA.
I have no thought of marriage, my friend. We have been in such grief
these five years, not only on my sister's account, but the ill success
of the farm, and the debts, and my father's breaking down, and his
blindness. How could I think of leaving him?
DOBSON.
Eh, but I be well to do; and if ye would nobbut hev me, I would taaeke
the owd blind man to my oaen fireside.
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