Awakened from sleep, the child uttered a feeble cry, and stretched out its tiny arms to Dorothy.
"You ought to pity it for its deformity, poor little creature, rather than reproach it, mother," observed the young damsel.
"Marry kem eawt!" cried her mother, sharply, "yo'n getten fine feelings wi' your larning fro t' good feythers, Dolly.

Os ey said efore, ey wish t' brat wur far enough." "You forget it has no mother," suggested Dorothy, kindly.
"An naw great matter, if it hasn't," returned the miller's wife.

"Bess Demdike's neaw great loss." "Is this Bess Demdike's child ?" cried Paslew, recoiling.
"Yeigh," exclaimed the miller's wife.

And mistaking the cause of Paslew's emotion, she added, triumphantly, to her daughter, "Ey towd te, wench, ot t' lort abbut would be of my way o' thinking.

T' chilt has got the witch's mark plain upon her.