_Th._ Eh, mon! Dun they do sich things as you? But aw'm seechin' nothin', man nor meawse, that donnot belung me. Aw tell yo true. Gie mo mo Mattie, and aw'll trouble yo no moor. Aw winnot--if yo'll give mo back mo Mattie. (_Comes close up to him and lays his hand on his arm_.) Be yo a feyther, mon? _Col. G._ Yes. _Th._ Ov a pratty yung lass? _Col. G._ Well, no. I have but a son. _Th._ Then thae winnot help mo? _Col. G._ I shall be very glad to help you, if you will tell me how. _Th._ Tell yor maister 'at Mattie's owd feyther's coom a' the gait fro Rachda to fot her whoam, and aw'll be much obleeged to him iv he'll let her goo beout lunger delay, for her mother wants her to whoam: hoo's but poorly. Tell yor maister that. _Col. G._ But I don't believe my master knows anything about her. _Th._ Aw're tellin' tho, aw seigh' th' mon goo into this heawse but a feow minutes agoo? _Col. G._ You've mistaken somebody for him. _Th._ Well, aw'm beawn to tell tho moore. Twothre days ago, aw seigh mo chylt coom eawt ov this same dur--aw mane th' heawsedur, yon. _Col. G._ Are you sure of that? _Th._ Sure as death. Aw seigh her back. _Col. G._ Her back! Who could be sure of a back? _Th._ By th' maskins! dosto think I dunnot know mo Mattie's back? I seign her coom eawt o' that dur, aw tell tho! _Col. G._ Why didn't you speak to her? _Th._ Aw co'd. _Col. G._ And she didn't answer? _Th._ Aw didn't co' leawd. Aw're not willin' to have ony mak ov a din. _Col. G._ But you followed her surely? _Th._ Aw did; but aw're noan so good at walkin' as aw wur when aw coom; th' stwons ha' blistered mo fet. An it're the edge o' dark like. Aw connot seigh weel at neet, wi o' th' lamps; an afoor aw geet oop wi' her, hoo's reawnd th' nook, and gwon fro mo seet. _Col. G._ There are ten thousands girls in London you might take for your own under such circumstances--not seeing more than the backs of them. _Th._ Ten theawsand girls like mo Mattie, saysto?--wi'her greight eighes and her lung yure?--Puh! _Col. G._ But you've just said you didn't see her face! _Th._ Dunnot aw know what th' face ov mo chylt be like, beout seein' ov it? Aw'm noan ov a lump-yed. Nobory as seigh her once wouldn't know her again. _Col. G._ (_aside_). He's a lunatic!--I don't see what I can do for you, old fellow. _Th._ (_rising_). And aw met ha' known it beout axin'! O'reet! Aw're a greight foo'! But aw're beawn to coom in: aw lung'd to goo through th' same dur wi' mo Mattie. Good day, sir. It be like maister, like mon! God's curse upon o' sich! (_Turns his back. After a moment turns again_.) Noa. Aw winnot say that; for mo Mattie's sake aw winnot say that. God forgie you! (_going by the house_). _Col. G._ This way, please! (_opening the street-door_). _Th._ Aw see. Aw'm not to have a chance ov seein' oather Mattie or th' mon. _Exit_. Col. G. _resumes his boot absently. Re-enter_ THOMAS, _shaking his fist_.