"Happen awd better bury it i'th garden," he sed, "it willn't tak a
minnit."

"E'e! nay!" shoo sed, "aw'll lap it up i' some nice clean newspaper, an
tha mun tak it wi thi, an when tha finds a nice secluded spot, whear it
can rest peacefully, lay it to rest."

"All reight, lass! put it on th' table wol aw goa for mi hat an coit,"
sed Bob, "an dunnot freeat."

Angelina lapt it carefully up, an sat daan to have a gooid cry, an Bob
coom rushin daan, feeard he'd be lat, tuckt th' bundle under his arm an
set off intendin to drop it into th' furst ashpit he coom to.

He passed monny a one, but ther wor allus somdy abaat, an he couldn't
get a chonce o' gettin shut on it, an he wor foorced to tak it to th'
office wi him. This didn't trubble him varry mich, for he'd allus a hawf
an haar for his lunch at twelve o'clock, soa he detarmined he'd dispooas
on it then, an i'th meantime, he put it in a cubboard i'th office, whear
it wodn't be seen.

It seem'd to Bob at moor fowk went to th' cubboard that mornin nor had
ivver been to it befoor.

"Its time this cubboard had a clean aght," sed th' manager as he wor
huntin for a book, "it smells like a vault."

Bob tremeld, but all passed off safely. Twenty times during that mornin
he wor put in a sweeat wi' furst one an another, but twelve o'clock coom