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Sylvia's Lovers — Volume 1 by Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell
page 71 of 238 (29%)

'Ay! ay! all in good time; for a've a long tale to tell yet; an' a
mun have some 'un to iron me out my seams, and look me out my bits,
for there's none here fit for my purpose.'

'Dang thy bits! Here, Sylvie! Sylvie! come and be tailor's man, and
let t' chap get settled sharp, for a'm fain t' hear his story.'

Sylvia took her directions, and placed her irons in the fire, and
ran upstairs for the bundle which had been put aside by her careful
mother for occasions like the present. It consisted of small pieces
of various coloured cloth, cut out of old coats and waistcoats, and
similar garments, when the whole had become too much worn for use,
yet when part had been good enough to be treasured by a thrifty
housewife. Daniel grew angry before Donkin had selected his patterns
and settled the work to his own mind.

'Well,' said he at last; 'a mought be a young man a-goin' a wooin',
by t' pains thou'st taken for t' match my oud clothes. I don't care
if they're patched wi' scarlet, a tell thee; so as thou'lt work away
at thy tale wi' thy tongue, same time as thou works at thy needle
wi' thy fingers.'

'Then, as a were saying, all Monkshaven were like a nest o' wasps,
flyin' hither and thither, and makin' sich a buzzin' and a talkin'
as niver were; and each wi' his sting out, ready for t' vent his
venom o' rage and revenge. And women cryin' and sobbin' i' t'
streets--when, Lord help us! o' Saturday came a worse time than
iver! for all Friday there had been a kind o' expectation an' dismay
about t' _Good Fortune_, as t' mariners had said was off St Abb's
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