"Stop a bit, mun," cried George; "what do all they words mean? They
bothers me."

"I knows some of 'em," said Abel, "and I asked Dame Datchett about
the others, but she do be so cross; and I thinks some of 'em
bothered she too. There's mocking. I knows that. 'What's a
modern, Dame?' says I. 'A muddle-headed fellow the likes of you,'
says she. 'What's a mohawk, Dame?' says I. 'It's what you'll come
to before long, ye young hang-gallus,' says she. I was feared on
her, Gearge, I can tell 'ee; but I tried my luck again. 'What's a
molar, Dame?' says I. ''Tis a wus word than t'other,' says she;
'and, if 'ee axes me any more voolish questions, I'll break thee
yead for 'ee.' Do 'ee think 'tis a very bad word, Gearge?" added
Abel, with a rather indefensible curiosity.

"I never heard un," said George. And this was perhaps decisive
against the Dame's statement. "And I don't believe un neither. I
think it bothered she. I believe 'tis a genteel word for a man as
catches oonts. They call oonts MOLES in some parts, so p'r'aps they
calls a man as catches moles a molar, as they calls a man as drives
a mill a miller."

"'Tis likely too, Gearge," said Abel. "Well! Molly we knows. And
moment, and moping, and moral."

"What's moral?" inquired George.

"'Tis what they put at the end of Vables, Gearge. There's Vables at
the end of the spelling-book, and I've read un all. There's the