Nay, y' are not tall enough.

What age are ye, for a wager ?--twelve ?" "Nay, I am sixteen," said Matcham.
"Y' are poorly grown to height, then," answered Dick.

"But take my hand.
We shall go softly, never fear.

I owe you a life; I am a good repayer, Jack, of good or evil." They began to go forward up the slope.
"We must hit the road, early or late," continued Dick; "and then for a fresh start.

By the mass! but y' 'ave a rickety hand, Jack.