'Mrs.
Wigson, she's allus makin em nice things.

She's kind, she is--she's nice--she wouldn't make em eat stuff like this--she'd give it to the pigs--'at she would!' And all the time it was pitiful to see how the child was gobbling up her unpalatable food, evidently from the instinctive fear, nasty as it was, that it would be taken from her as a punishment for her behaviour.
'Now, Louie, yo're a silly gell,' began Reuben, expostulating; but Hannah interposed.
'I wudn't advise yo, Reuben Grieve, to go wastin your breath on sich a minx.

If I were yo, I'd keep it fur my awn eating.' And she calmly put another slice of cold bacon on his plate, as though reminding him of his proper business.

Reuben fell silent and munched his bacon, though he could not forbear studying his niece every now and then uncomfortably.

He was a tall, large-boned man, with weakish eyes, sandy whiskers and beard, grown in a fringe round his long face, and a generally clumsy and disjointed air.