"The young lady speaks beautiful, just like a book she do.

An' she's likely to know a deal better nor poor persons like you and me.

All _I_ kin say is,--if there's goin' to be dividin' up of other folks' property, when I'm gone, I hope George Westall won't get nothink ov it! He's bad enough as 'tis.
Isabella 'ud have a fine time if _ee_ took to drivin' ov his carriage." The others laughed out, Marcella at their head, and Mrs.Jellison subsided, the corners of her mouth still twitching, and her eyes shining as though a host of entertaining notions were trooping through her--which, however, she preferred to amuse herself with rather than the public.

Marcella looked at Patton thoughtfully.
"You've been all your life in this village, haven't you, Mr.Patton ?" she asked him.
"Born top o' Witchett's Hill, miss.

An' my wife here, she wor born just a house or two further along, an' we two bin married sixty-one year come next March." He had resumed his usual almshouse tone, civil and a little plaintive.
His wife behind him smiled gently at being spoken of.