Now, thin, over the top of the whole I sprid this thin blanket of dough, thus.

And see me thrim off the edges about the tin with me knife.

And now I dint in the shircumference with me thumb, the same as July Trelawney did in the Ould Tinth.

And there ye are, done, me pie, an' may God have mercy on your sowl!--Ned, build up the fire." They sat at the side of the little stove somewhat anxiously waiting for the result of Battersleigh's labours.

Every once in a while Battersleigh opened the oven door and peered in.