P'raps tha' art a young 'un, after all, an' p'raps tha's got child's blood in thy veins instead of sour buttermilk.

Tha's skipped red into thy cheeks as sure as my name's Ben Weatherstaff.

I wouldn't have believed tha' could do it." "I never skipped before," Mary said.

"I'm just beginning.

I can only go up to twenty." "Tha' keep on," said Ben.