I was endeavouring to gather resolution for entering and taking possession, when my fool of a guide announced,--'This here is t' maister's.' My supper by this time was cold, my appetite gone, and my patience exhausted.

I insisted on being provided instantly with a place of refuge, and means of repose.
'Whear the divil ?' began the religious elder.

'The Lord bless us! The Lord forgie us! Whear the _hell_ wold ye gang?
ye marred, wearisome nowt! Ye've seen all but Hareton's bit of a cham'er.

There's not another hoile to lig down in i' th' hahse!' I was so vexed, I flung my tray and its contents on the ground; and then seated myself at the stairs'-head, hid my face in my hands, and cried.
'Ech! ech!' exclaimed Joseph.

'Weel done, Miss Cathy! weel done, Miss Cathy! Howsiver, t' maister sall just tum'le o'er them brooken pots; un' then we's hear summut; we's hear how it's to be.