'It's got naw holes 'at I can see, but it's not varra smart, perhaps.

Satan's varra active wi gells on this pint o' dress--yo mun tak noatice o' that, Louie--but--listen heer--' And he drew her nearer to him by her skirt, looking cautiously up and down the lane and across to the farm.
'If I get a good price for t' wool this year--an theer's a new merchant coomin round, yan moor o' t' buyin soart nor owd Croker, soa they say, I'st save yo five shillin for a frock, chilt.

Yo can goo an buy it, an I'st mak it straight wi yor aunt.

But I mun get a good price, yo know, or your aunt ull be fearfu' bad to manage.' And he gazed up at her as though appealing to her common sense in the matter, and to her understanding of both his and her situation.
Louie's cheeks were red, her eyes did not meet his.

They looked away, down towards Clough End.
'Theer's a blue cotton at Hinton's,' she said, hurriedly--'a light-blue cotton.