thoo mūn keep them i’ thy oan hand—thūrty yacre o’ gûd grūnd. Ey,” says he, hoaf till hissel, “t’ best land ’at iver laid oot o’ dooars. Whativer way ye gang fray’t ye warsen! Thoo’ll hod them i’ thy oan hand, for t’ seàk o’ hevin sūm’at to deù. Thoo’ll hev to leùk efter t’ fences, an’ t’ yatts, an’ t’ water-coorses. Keep _them_ i’ order; an’ keep t’ plew oot o’ t’ land; it ’ill give t’ meàst liggin t’ green side ūp. Jobby ’ill deù thy tradin’ for the’. Dūnnot thee mell wid buyin or sellin. Leave o’ that to Jobby, an’ pay him whativer he charges for his trūble. He’ll deù what’s reet, will Jobby. An’ noo I’s aboot deùn. Gi’ me yer hands, beàth on yé, an’ say ye’ll deù what I tell yè. Wilfrid! thoo’ll be advised by Jobby. Jobby! thoo’ll be true frind to my pooar lad, as if I was theear to see. Promish!” This was a langish noration for a body wid t’ breath leavin him, an’ when it was done he laid back on his pilliver, an’ leùk’t at them varra wistful-like, till they promish’t, an’ it was a bit afooar they cūd, for by this time they war beáth on them yewlin, t’ yan ower t’ ùdder, whedder to yewl t’ hardest. When t’ oald man was bury’t oot o’ geàt, Wilfrid an’ Jobby wūrk’t away togidder varra cannily. Job bowte stock for t’ Booin-leys, an’ selt them as they fatten’t off, an’ enter’t o’ iv a big beùk ’at Wiff niver so mūch as leùk’t atween t’ backs on. He’d his fadder’s last wūrds for Jobby deein what was reet, an’ they war aneùf. Nowte com to put owder on them oot of his way, till Wiff gat a wife—or mebbe I wad be narder t’ truth if I said, a wife gat Wiff—for when ivery body seed ’at he went on i’ sec a stiddy soort of a way—gittin heavy incomins i’ rent, an’ interest, an’ shares, an’ néabody kent what; an’ makin varra leet ootgangins, it was plain aneùf ’at he wad seùn be yan o’ t’ yablest men i’ thur parts, an’ t’ lasses begon to cock ther caps at him of o’ sides—’specially them ’at thowte a man isn’t wūrth hevin if he hesn’t gitten a bit o’ t’ feàce o’ t’ yūrth; an’ efter a while yan o’ that mack fassen’t Wiffy.