"It's slow wark suppin' buttermilk with a pitchfork." "Will you _never_ be solid with me ?" cried Liza, with extreme vexation pictured on every feature as her scapegrace sweetheart tried to imprison her hands in order to kiss her.

"I tell you--" and then there was some momentary whispering between them, which seemed to have the effect of sobering Robbie in an instant.

His exuberant vivacity gave place to a look of the utmost solemnity, not unmixed with a painful expression as of one who was struggling hard to gather together his scattered wits.
"They'll only have another to take once they catch _him_," said Robbie in an altered tone, as he drew his hand hard across his eyes.
There was some further whispering, and then the two went outside.
Returning to the door, Liza hailed her father, who joined them on the causeway in front of the inn.
Robbie was another man.

Of his reckless abandonment of spirit no trace was left.
Mattha was told of the visit of the constables to Shoulthwaite, and of Sim's despatch in search of Ralph.
"He'll be off for Carlisle," said Robbie, standing square on his legs, and tugging with his cap off at the hair at the back of his head.
"Like eneuf," answered Mattha, "and likely that's the safest place for him.

It's best to sit near the fire when the chimney smokes, thoo knows." "He'll none go for safety, father," answered Robbie; and turning to Liza, he added, "But what was it you said about Mother Garth ?" "The old witch-wife said that Ralph was wanted for murder," replied the girl.
"It's a lie," said Robbie vehemently.
"I'll uphod thee there," said Mattha; "but whatever's to be done ?" "Why, Robbie must go and fetch Sim back," said Liza eagerly.
"The lass is right," said Robbie; "I'll be off." And the young man swung on his heel as though about to carry out his purpose on the instant.
"Stop, stop," said Mattha; "I reckon the laal tailor's got farther ner the next cause'y post.