And me and my Bible!--how can I read it, and not know my ailing, and a'stract one good word, William?
It'll seem only the devil's shootin' black lightnings across the page, as poor blessed granny used to say, and she believed witches could do it to you in her time, when they was evil-minded.

No! To-night I look on the binding of the Holy Book, and I don't, and I won't, I sha' n't open it." This violent end to her petition was wrought by the farmer grasping her arm to bring her to her feet.
"Go to bed, mother." "I shan't open it," she repeated, defiantly.

"And it ain't," she gathered up her comfortable fat person to assist the words "it ain't good--no, not the best pious ones--I shall, and will say it! as is al'ays ready to smack your face with the Bible." "Now, don't ye be angry," said the farmer.
She softened instantly.
"William, dear, I got fifty-seven pounds sterling, and odd shillings, in a Savings-bank, and that I meant to go to Dahly, and not to yond' dark thing sitting there so sullen, and me in my misery; I'd give it to you now for news of my darlin'.

Yes, William; and my poor husband's cottage, in Sussex--seventeen pound per annum.

That, if you'll be goodness itself, and let me hear a word." "Take her upstairs," said the farmer to Rhoda, and Rhoda went by her and took her hands, and by dint of pushing from behind and dragging in front, Mrs.Sumfit, as near on a shriek as one so fat and sleek could be, was ejected.