Mrs.Hartopp,' said Sir Christopher, taking out his gold snuff-box and tapping the lid, 'what have you to say to me?
Markham has delivered you a notice to quit, I suppose ?' 'O yis, your honour, an' that's the reason why I've come.

I hope your honour 'll think better on it, an' not turn me an' my poor children out o' the farm, where my husband al'ys paid his rent as reglar as the day come.' 'Nonsense! I should like to know what good it will do you and your children to stay on a farm and lose every farthing your husband has left you, instead of selling your stock and going into some little place where you can keep your money together.

It is very well known to every tenant of mine that I never allow widows to stay on their husbands' farms.' 'O, Sir Christifer, if you _would_ consider--when I've sold the hay, an' corn, an' all the live things, an' paid the debts, an' put the money out to use, I shall have hardly enough to keep our souls an' bodies together.
An' how can I rear my boys and put 'em 'prentice?
They must go for dey-labourers, an' their father a man wi' as good belongings as any on your honour's estate, an' niver threshed his wheat afore it was well i' the rick, nor sold the straw off his farm, nor nothin'.

Ask all the farmers round if there was a stiddier, soberer man than my husband as attended Ripstone market.

An' he says, "Bessie," says he--them was his last words--"you'll mek a shift to manage the farm, if Sir Christifer 'ull let you stay on."' 'Pooh, pooh!' said Sir Christopher, Mrs.Hartopp's sobs having interrupted her pleadings, 'now listen to me, and try to understand a little common sense.