She were but a softy after all: for she left off doing her work in a proper manner.

I've heerd my aunt say as she found out as summat was wrong wi' Nancy as soon as th' milk turned bingy, for there ne'er had been such a clean lass about her milk-cans afore that; and from bad it grew to worse, and she would sit and do nothing but play wi' her fingers fro' morn till night, and if they asked her what ailed her, she just said, "He once was here;" and if they bid her go about her work, it were a' the same.

And when they scolded her, and pretty sharp too, she would stand up and put her hair from her eyes, and look about her like a crazy thing searching for her wits, and ne'er finding them, for all she could think on was just, "He once was here." It were a caution to me again thinking a man t' mean what he says when he's a-talking to a young woman.' 'But what became on poor Nancy ?' asked Sylvia.
'What should become on her or on any lass as gives hersel' up to thinking on a man who cares nought for her ?' replied her mother, a little severely.

'She were crazed, and my aunt couldn't keep her on, could she?
She did keep her a long weary time, thinking as she would, may-be, come to hersel', and, anyhow, she were a motherless wench.

But at length she had for t' go where she came fro'-- back to Keswick workhouse: and when last I heerd on her she were chained to th' great kitchen dresser i' t' workhouse; they'd beaten her till she were taught to be silent and quiet i' th' daytime, but at night, when she were left alone, she would take up th' oud cry, till it wrung their heart, so they'd many a time to come down and beat her again to get any peace.