Be'n purty chirk this summer ?" "Very well, I thank you, sir," and Miss Butterworth dropped a courtesy, and then, sitting down, she pointed him to a chair.
Jim laid his cap on the floor, placed his roll of cloth upright between his knees, and, pulling out his bandana handkerchief, wiped his perspiring face.
"I've brung a little job fur ye," said Jim.
"Oh, I can't do it," said Miss Butterworth at once.

"I'm crowded to death with work.

It's a hurrying time of year." "Yes, I knowed that, but this is a pertickler job." "Oh, they are all particular jobs," responded Miss Butterworth, shaking her head.
"But this is a job fur pertickler folks." "Folks are all alike to me," said Miss Butterworth, sharply.
"These clo'es," said Jim, "are fur a good man an' a little boy.

They has nothin' but rags on 'em, an' won't have till ye make these clo'es.

The man is a pertickler friend o' mine, an' the boy is a cute little chap, an' he can pray better nor any minister in Sevenoaks.