'Why yo needn't get into sich a fit abaat it fayther (for aw suppooas aw may call yo fayther nah), yo know sich things--' 'Fayther! Fayther! Whose fayther? Awm nooan thy fayther nor likely to be! Aw'd rayther pairt wi' ivery hawpeny aw have nor iver think 'at tha wor owt to me!' 'Well, Bessy's fayther'll be my fayther when we get wed, an' aw dooan't see what ther is to be 'shamed on i' that. But aw think yo'd better put a bit o' coil on th' foir for it's rayther a cooil neet.' 'Awst put noa coil on th' foir, aw con tell thi that. Aw havn't getten my brass wi' burnin coil at this time o'th' neet. Aw hooap tha'll be frozzen to th' deeath if tha doesn't goa.' 'Noa fear abaat me bein frozzen, becoss if yo d'ooant put some on aw will, soa crack that nut, fayther.' 'Aw'll crack thy nut if tha touches ony coils here!' sed Stooansnatch, seizin hold o'th' pooaker, 'aw'll do that for thee an' sharply if tha doesn't hook it.' 'If yo cannot keep yor temper better nor that aw should advise yo to goa to bed an' leave Bessy an' me to talk matters ovver a bit; an' awm net gooin to caar here an' get mi deeath o' cold for th' sake ov a bit ov coil aw can tell yo,' an' Joa tuk th' coil basket an' emptied it onto th' foir. 'Nah then just leearn me that pooaker, or else scale it yorsen fayther, an' then we shall have a bit o' leet.' But Stooansnatch kept fast hold o'th' pooaker, soa Joa scaled it wi' th' tongs. 'Yo happen havn't owt to sup i'th' haase Bessy, have yo?' he sed, spaikin to her for th' first time since he'd takken possession. But still Bessy seem'd altogether takken up wi th' toa 'at wor peepin aght ov her slipper. 'Dooan't be 'shamed lass, dooan't be 'shamed, thi fayther'll be all reight in a bit. Come an' let's gie thi a kuss,' he sed, stoopin ovver her an' puttin his arm raand her waist. This wor moor nor owd Stooansnatch could stand, soa swingin th' pooaker aboon his heead, he browt it daan wi' a fearful crack onto th' heead o' poor Joa, who at once reel'd ovver an fell insensible to th' graand. Terrified when he saw what he'd done, Stooansnatch let th' pooaker fall, an' Bessy jump'd up wringin her hands an' cryin 'Oh, fayther! yo've killed him! yo've killed him! Oh, Joa, Joa, spaik to me! What shall we do? Fayther bring a leet sharp!' But that wor aght o'th' question, for his hand tremeld soa 'at he couldn't leet a cannel, soa Bessy had to leet it, an' then shoo bent ovver th' form ov poor Joa. A little crimson stream wor slowly formin a pool abaat his heead, an' his pale face luk'd soa awful wi' his jet black hair araand his brow, 'at Bessy seemed ommast as terrified as her fayther. But tho' shoo wor scared for a minnit shoo sooin gate ovver it, an' set to bind up his heead an' place it carefully on a cushion. Then shoo bathed his face wi' watter, but still ther wor noa sign o' life. 'Aw didn't mean to hit him soa hard, Bessy, awm sure aw didn't.'