"Never mind! Mother's done her ironing now.

She's going to put the ironing things away." "Munny, I tould 'ike to do into de barn to Tommy, to see de whittawd." "No, no, no; Totty 'ud get her feet wet," said Mrs.Poyser, carrying away her iron.

"Run into the dairy and see cousin Hetty make the butter." "I tould 'ike a bit o' pum-take," rejoined Totty, who seemed to be provided with several relays of requests; at the same time, taking the opportunity of her momentary leisure to put her fingers into a bowl of starch, and drag it down so as to empty the contents with tolerable completeness on to the ironing sheet.
"Did ever anybody see the like ?" screamed Mrs.Poyser, running towards the table when her eye had fallen on the blue stream.

"The child's allays i' mischief if your back's turned a minute.

What shall I do to you, you naughty, naughty gell ?" Totty, however, had descended from her chair with great swiftness, and was already in retreat towards the dairy with a sort of waddling run, and an amount of fat on the nape of her neck which made her look like the metamorphosis of a white suckling pig.
The starch having been wiped up by Molly's help, and the ironing apparatus put by, Mrs.Poyser took up her knitting which always lay ready at hand, and was the work she liked best, because she could carry it on automatically as she walked to and fro.