"It was long afore I bought my new loom, and that's six-and-twenty year come Christmas." "Ey, I mind they said she'd run away frae the man she'd wedded somewhere in the north," observed Adam Rutledge through the pewter which he had raised to his lips.

"Ower fond of his pot for Sarah." "Nowt o' t' sort," said Matthew.

"He used to pommel and thresh her up and doon, and that's why she cut away frae him, and that's why she's sic a sour yan." "Ey, that's reets on it," said Reuben.
"But auld Wilson's spite on her olas did cap me a laal bit," said Matthew again.

"He wanted her burnt for a witch.

'It's all stuff and bodderment aboot the witches,' says I to him ya day; 'there be none.
God's aboon the devil!' 'Nay, nay,' says Wilson, 'it'll be past jookin' when the heed's off.