Nah it just soa happened at Jim o' long Joans (they used to call him
Jimmy-long for short), wor lukin' aght oth' winder, an' saw em comin';
ther wor noabody ith' haas drinkin' but hissen, soa emptyin' his quart
daan th' sink, he tell'd Molly to be aware, for ther wor mischief
brewin'; an then he bob'd under th' seat. In abaght a minit three on em
coom in,--not i' ther blue clooas an silver buttons, but i' ther reglar
warty duds.

"Nah, owd lass," said one, "let's have hauf-a-gallon o' stiff-shackle,
an luk sharp."

"What do yo want, maister? I think yo've come to th' rang haase; do yo
tak this to be a jerry-hoil; or ha?" said Molly. (They'd ta'en care to
leave Slinger aghtside, cos they knew he'd be owned.)

"Nay, nah come," they said, "its all reight mun, here's th' brass,
sithee, fotch a soop up, for we're all three as dry as a assmidden."

"Why, if yo are reight dry," shoo says (an bith' mass they wor, for
they'd been walkin' a bit o' ther best), "ther's lots o' watter ith' pot
under th' table, but be as careful as yo con, for it bides a deal o'
fotchin'--but aw wodn't advise yo to fill yor bellies o' cold watter
when yo're sweatin', its nooan a gooid thing mun. Have yo come fur? Yo
luk as if yo'd been runnin' aght oth' gate o' summut, but aw hope yo've
been i' noa sooart o' mischief: hasumever, sit yo daan an cooil a bit."

They set em daan, for they wor fessened what to do, an at last one on
em whispered, "aw believe Slinger's been havin' us on, seekin' th'
fiddle, but if he has, we'll repoort him an get him discharged like a
shot."