"awst be glad to promise owt yo like to ask, sir."

"Awm a member o' th' Anti-tobacca Society," sed th' owd beggar chucklin
to hissen, "an aw hooap yo dooant indulge i' smookin or snufftakkin?"

"Aw do smook a little, sir, but varry little."

"Then, ov cooarse as its soa little, yo willn't object to give it up in
order to win Mabel's hand?"

Poor Sydney, he'd nobbut had three cigars that mornin, an he wor fair
deein to get aght an have a smook, but ther didn't seem noa escape, soa
wi a sigh, he sed:--"Varry weel, sir, aw'll give it up."

Owd Mothersdale grinned, an thowt ha nicely he wor payin him off for th'
neet befoor, then he shoved a sheet o' paper across th' table, an Sydney
wrote on it that he promised nivver to smook no mooar wol th' owd chap
consented.

"Aw shall nivver consent," sed Mr. Mothersdale, "haivver it doesn't
matter. Nah, Mabel, gie me a kiss, an then yo an Mister Horne can run
away an talk things ovver."

Mabel kissed him, an went away wi Sydney, but when shoo axed him
afterwards what th' joke wor he'd promised to tell her, he pretended
he'd forgetten.

They wor wed at Midsummer, an Sydney kept his word abaat smookin--he
started chewin, an suckin owd empty pipes, but it worn't like smookin,
an whenivver he smelt th' reek ov a cigar it fair set him longin, but