'I'm looking after some of my sheep, Amos.'

'Not th' black uns, I hope.'

'No! I am looking after the hundredth--the one that went astray.'

'Better leave her alone, Mr. Penrose. There's an owd sayin' i'
these parts that yo' cornd go into th' mill baat gettin' dusted.
That means in yur talk that yo' cornd touch pitch baat gettin'
blacked. If thaa goes to Mrs. Stott's they'll say thaart goan for
naught good. If thaa wur a married mon, naa, and bed childer, it
'ud happen be different; but bein' single, thaa sees, th' aatside
o' yon threshold is th' reight side for such as thee and me.'

(Amos, be it known, was an old bachelor of over seventy years of
age.)

'Nonsense, Amos; you are reversing the teaching of the Master. He
went after the sinner, did He not?'

'Yi, He did; and He lost His repetation o'er it. They co'd Him a
winebibber, and a friend o' all maks o' bad uns. I couldn't like
'em to say th' same abaat thee. Rehoboth 'ud noan ston' it, thaa
knows.'

Mr. Penrose did not know whether to laugh or to be serious.
Seeing, however, that Amos was in no laughing mood, he turned
somewhat sharply on the old man, and said: