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_Col. G._ Confound the thing! I wish it were a scabbard. When I think I'm getting it all right--one rub more and it's gone dull again!
_The house-door opens slowly, and_ THOMAS _peeps cautiously in_.
_Th._ What sort of a plaze be this, maister?
_Col. G._ You ought to have asked that outside. How did you get in?
_Th._ By th' dur-hole. Iv yo leave th' dur oppen, th' dogs'll coom in.
_Col. G._ I must speak to Martha again. She _will_ leave the street-door open!--Well, you needn't look so frightened. It ain't a robbers' cave.
_Th._ That be more'n aw knaw--not for sartin sure, maister. n.o.bory mun keawnt upon n.o.bory up to Lonnon, they tells mo. But iv a gentleman axes mo into his heawse, aw'm noan beawn to be afeard. Aw'll coom in, for mayhap yo can help mo. It be a coorous plaze. What dun yo mak here?
_Col. G._ What would you think now?
_Th._ It looks to mo like a mason's shed--a greight one.
_Col. G._ You're not so far wrong.
_Th._ (_advancing_). It do look a queer plaze. Aw be noan so sure abeawt it. But they wonnot coot mo throat beout warnin'. Aw'll bother noan. (_Sits down on the dais and wipes his face_.) Well, aw be a'most weary.
_Col. G._ Is there anything I can do for you?
_Th._ Nay, aw donnot know; but beout aw get somebory to help mo, aw dunnot think aw'll coom to th' end in haste. Aw're a lookin' for summut aw've lost, mou.
_Col. G._ Did you come all the way from Lancashire to look for it?
_Th._ Eh, lad! aw thowt thae'rt beawn to know wheer aw coom fro!
_Col. G._ Anybody could tell that, the first word you spoke. I mean no offence.
_Th._ (_looking disappointed_). Well, noan's ta'en. But thae dunnot say thae's ne'er been to Lancashire thisel'?
_Col. G._ No, I don't say that: I've been to Lancashire several times.
_Th._ Wheer to?
_Col. G._ Why, Manchester.
_Th._ That's noan ov it.
_Col. G._ And Lancaster.
_Th._ Tut! tut! That's noan of it, nayther.
_Col. G._ And Liverpool. I was once there for a whole week.
_Th._ Nay, nay. Noather o' those plazes. Fur away off 'em.
_Col. G._ But what does it matter where I have or haven't been?
_Th._ Mun aw tell tho again? Aw've lost summut, aw tell tho. Didsto ne'er hear tell ov th' owd woman 'at lost her shillin'? Hoo couldn't sit her deawn beawt hoo feawnd it! Yon's me. (_Hides his face in his hands_.)
_Col. G._ Ah! now I begin to guess! (_aside_).--You don't mean you've lost your--
_Th._ (_starting up and grasping his stick with both hands_). Aw _do_ mane aw've lost mo yung la.s.s; and aw dunnot say thae's feawnd her, but aw do say thae knows wheer hoo is. Aw do. Theighur! Nea then!
_Col. G._ What on earth makes you think that? I don't know what you're after.
_Th._ Thae knows well enough. Thae knowed what aw'd lost afoor aw tou'd tho yo' be deny in' your own name. Thae knows. Aw'll tay tho afore the police, beout thou gie her oop. Aw wull.
_Col. G._ What story have you to tell the police then? They'll want to know.
_Th._ Story saysto? The dule's i' th' mon! Didn't aw seigh th' mon 'at stealed her away goo into this heawse not mich over hauve an hour ago?--Aw seigh him wi' mo own eighes.
_Col. G._ Why didn't you speak to him?
_Th._ He poppit in at th' same dur, and there aw've been a-watching ever since. Aw've not took my eighes off ov it. He's somewheeres now in this same heawse.
_Col. G._ He _may_ have been out in the morning (_aside_).--But you see there are more doors than one to the place. There is a back door; and there is a door out into the street.
_Th._ Eigh! eigh! Th' t'one has to do wi' th' t'other--have it? Three dur-holes to one shed! That looks bad!
_Col. G._ He's not here, whoever it was. There's not a man but myself in the place.
_Th._ Hea am aw to know yo're not playin' a marlock wi' mo? He'll be oop i' th' heawse theer. Aw mun go look (_going_).
_Col. G._ (_preventing him_). And how am _I_ to know you're not a housebreaker?
_Th._ Dun yo think an owd mon like mosel' would be of mich use for sich wark as that, mon?
_Col. G._ The more fit for a spy, though, to see what might be made of it.
_Th._ Eh, mon! Dun they do sich things as you? But aw'm seechin'
nothin', man nor meawse, that donnot belung me. Aw tell yo true. Gie mo mo Mattie, and aw'll trouble yo no moor. Aw winnot--if yo'll give mo back mo Mattie. (_Comes close up to him and lays his hand on his arm_.) Be yo a feyther, mon?
_Col. G._ Yes.
_Th._ Ov a pratty yung la.s.s?
_Col. G._ Well, no. I have but a son.
_Th._ Then thae winnot help mo?
_Col. G._ I shall be very glad to help you, if you will tell me how.
_Th._ Tell yor maister 'at Mattie's owd feyther's coom a' the gait fro Rachda to fot her whoam, and aw'll be much obleeged to him iv he'll let her goo beout lunger delay, for her mother wants her to whoam: hoo's but poorly. Tell yor maister that.
_Col. G._ But I don't believe my master knows anything about her.