"What is it you smell of?
It's cool and warm and sweet all at the same time." "It's th' wind from th' moor," said Mary.

"It comes o' sittin' on th' grass under a tree wi' Dickon an' wi' Captain an' Soot an' Nut an' Shell.

It's th' springtime an' out o' doors an' sunshine as smells so graidely." She said it as broadly as she could, and you do not know how broadly Yorkshire sounds until you have heard some one speak it.

Colin began to laugh.
"What are you doing ?" he said.

"I never heard you talk like that before.