Yorksher Puddin': A Collection of the Most Popular Dialect Stories from the Pen of John HartleyHartley, John
General
Yorksher Puddin': A Collection of the Most Popular Dialect Stories from the Pen of John Hartley
Hartley, John
English language -- Dialects -- England -- Yorkshire; Yorkshire (England) -- Fiction
oft leads ta 'fendin' an' provin', for them 'at come an' tell yo summat
abaght somdy else will just as sooin tell somdy else summat abaght yo.
An' luk what scrapes one gets into wi' it. Nah, aw made Dick believe 'at
th' chimley smookd, that wor a lie to say th' least on it, an' he'll be
sure ta noatice 'at it doesn't smook ta-neet, but if he names it aw'll
tell th' truth, for, aw'm sure noa gooid comes o' lying."
When Zantippa had just made this resolve, th' door opened, an' Dick au'
three childer coom in throo th' miln. He saw th' difference in a minnit.
"Wipe them clogs," he said as th' childer wor walkin' in. "Tha's been
fettlin' a bit, lass, aw think. Are ta baan to ax some o'th' neighbors
to ther drinkin'?"
"Noa!" shoo says, "aw'm baan to ax noabody but thee an' th' childer.
Does ta want me to ax somdy?"
"Nay, nooan soa! Aw'd as gooid as promised to goa as far as 'Th' Cock'
ta neet, to talk ovver this bit ov a doo, but aw think aw'll stop at
hooam, what says ta?" Zantippa smiled, nay even blushed, shoo knew what
he ment an' shoo felt pleased. It wor a bit ov a compliment, an' paid
her for all her trouble.
"Please thisen," shoo said, as shoo poured aght a cup o' teah for him,
an' lifted a pile o' tooast aght o' th' oven, "but aw think th'rt as
weel at hooam."
"Well, an' aw think aw'm better," he said, as he luk'd raand, "aw think
th' chimley doesn't smook as ill as it did, does it?"
Shoo hung her heead, an' stooped ta pick a pin off th' floor, but shoo
couldn't find one, an' when shoo luk'd up ther een met. Shoo didn't
spaik, nor moor did he; it worn't needed. It wor a long time sin they'd
sich a comfortable teah, an' when they'd done they sat some time at th'
table i' silence. Ha' long they might have sat aw connot tell, hadn't
th' door oppened, an' Betty come runnin' in wi' a pot to beg a sup o'
hot watter, for shoo said "Her chap had coom hooam, an' shoo'd been
rayther longer nor shoo expected, an' he wor playin' th' varry hangment
for his drinkin'."
Shoo gate her hot water, an' went away. Dick luk'd at his wife, an'
takkin' howd ov her hand, said, "Aw'm glad 'at tha hasn't to goa seekin'
hot water, an' aw hooap tha niver may have."
"Aw hooap nut," shoo said, an' sat daan evidently varry ill set ta see
her stockins. Nah, what a little con make fowk happy or miserable. Dick
wor as content as a king, becoss all th' haas wor tidy. He saw at somdy
had been tryin' to mak' him comfortable; an shoo wor as delighted as if
shoo'd getten a fortin left, becoss what shoo'd done had suited him.
When th' childer had getten all put ta bed, Dick said, "Lass, aw've been
thinkin' 'at aw dooant care soa mich abaght gooin to this teadrinkin'
for aw've a noation 'at we connot goa ta th' tea withaat stoppin' an'
spendin' a lot o' brass at after, an' aw've heeard thee say as thar't
fast for some flannel. Nah, if we stop at hooam an' spend th' brass o'
what it is tha wants, it'll do us moor gooid nor th' ale, what says ta?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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