After a while she looked at Margret furtively, with a pitiful eagerness.
"Miss Marg'et, I think there BE something wrong in my head.

Did YOH ever notice it ?" Margret put her hand kindly on the broad, misshapen forehead.
"Something is wrong everywhere, Lois," she said, absently.
She did not see the slow sigh with which the girl smothered down whatever hope had risen just then, listened half-attentive as the huckster maundered on.
"It was th' mill," she said at last.

"I kind o' grew into that place in them years: seemed to me like as I was part o' th' engines, somehow.

Th' air used to be thick in my mouth, black wi' smoke 'n' wool 'n' smells.
"In them years I got dazed in my head, I think.

'T was th' air 'n' th' work.