"While they stood talkin' this way, one o'th singers coom runnin' out
o'th chapel bare yed, an' he shouted out 'Dick, thae'rt wanted, this
minute! Where's that pitch-pipe? We'n gated wrang twice o' ready! Come
in, wi' tho'!' 'By th' mass,' said Dick, dartin' back; 'I'd forgetten o'
about it. I'se never seen through this job, to my deein' day.' An' off
he ran, an' laft owd Pudge sit upo' th' organ, grinnin' at him....
That's a nice do, isn't it, Nanny?"

"Eh," said the old woman, "I never yerd sich a tale i' my life. But
thae's made part o' that out o' th' owd yed, Skedlock."

"Not a word," said he: "not a word. Yo han it as I had it, Nanny; as
near as I can tell."

"Well," replied she, "how did they go on at after that?"

"Well," said he, "I haven't time to stop to-neet, Nanny; I'll tell yo
some time else, I thought Jone would ha' bin here by now. He mun ha'
co'de at 'Th' Rompin' Kitlin'; but, I'll look in as I go by.'"

"I wish thou would, Skedlock. An' dunnot' go an' keep him, now; send
him forrud whoam."

"I will, Nanny--I dunnot want to stop, mysel'. Con yo lend me a
lantron?"

"Sure I can. Jenny, bring that lantron; an' leet it. It'll be two
hours afore th' moon rises. It's a fine neet, but it's dark."

When Jenny brought the lantern, I bade Nanny "Good night," and took