"I always told my Joey as he'd have to throw ye up, and I'm fair pleased to see he's taken me at my word." "Oh, he has, has he ?" said Liza, rising near to boiling point at the imputation of being the abandoned sweetheart of the blacksmith.

"I always said as ye could bang them all at leein.

I would not have your Joey if his lips were droppin' honey and his pockets droppin' gold.
Nothing would hire me to do it.

Joey indeed!" added Liza, with a vision of the blacksmith's sanguine head rising before her, "why, you might light a candle at his poll." Mrs.Garth's banter was not calculated to outlast this kind of assault.

Rising to her feet, she said: "Weel, thou'rt a rare yan, I _will_ say.