put, Betty?' 'Eh, I'm fain thae's brought it,' said Betty. 'It's for
th' chapel; an' it'll be wanted for Sunday. Sitho, set it deawn i' this
front reawm here; an' mind what thae'rt doin' with it.' So Robin, an'
Barfoot Sam, an' Little Wamble, 'at looks after th' horses at 'Th'
Rompin' Kitlin,' geet it eawt o'th cart. When they geet how'd ont, Robin
said, 'Neaw lads; afore yo starten: Mind what yo'r doin; an' be as
ginger as yo con. That's a thing 'at's soon thrut eawt o' gear--it's a
organ.' So they hove, an' poo'd, an' grunted, an' thrutch't, till they
geet it set down i'th parlour; an' they pretended to be quite knocked up
wi' th' job. 'Betty,' said Robin, wipin' his face wi' his sleeve, 'it's
bin dry weather latly.' So th' owd lass took th' hint, an' fetched 'em a
quart o' ale. While they stood i'th middle o'th floor suppin' their ale,
Betty took th' candle an' went a-lookin' at this organ; and hoo couldn't
tell whatever to make on it.... Did'n yo ever see a weshin'-machine,
Nanny?"

"Never i' my life," said Nanny. "Nor aw dunnot want. Gi me a greight
mug, an' some breawn swoap, an' plenty o' soft wayter; an' yo may tak
yo'r machines for me."

"Well," continued Skedlock, "it's moor liker a grindlestone nor a
organ. But, as I were tellin yo:--

"Betty stare't at this thing, an' hoo walked round it an' scrat her
yed mony a time, afore hoo ventur't to speak. At last hoo said, 'Aw'll
tell tho what, Robert; it's a quare-shaped 'un. It favvurs a yung
mangle! Doesto think it'll be reet?' 'Reet?' said Robin, swipin' his ale
off? 'oh, aye; it's reet enough. It's one of a new pattern, at's just
com'd up. It's o' reet, Betty. Yo may see that bith hondle.' 'Well,'
said Betty, 'if it's reet, it's reet. But it's noan sich a nice-lookin'