But again Alizon interposed.
"Do not be alarmed, Susan," she said, "my grandmother will never harm you, I am sure; indeed, she will never harm any one; and do not heed what little Jennet says, for she is not aware of the effect of her own words, or of the injury they might do our grandmother, if repeated." "Ey dunna wish to repeat them, or to think of em," sobbed Susan.
"That's good, that's kind of you, Susan," replied Alizon, taking her hand.

"Do not be cross any more, Jennet.

You see you have made her weep." "Ey'm glad on it," rejoined the little girl, laughing; "let her cry on.
It'll do her good, an teach her to mend her manners, and nah offend me again." "Ey didna mean to offend ye, Jennet," sobbed Susan, "boh yo're so wrythen an marr'd, a body canna speak to please ye." "Weel, if ye confess your fault, ey'm satisfied," replied the little girl; "boh let it be a lesson to ye, Suky, to keep guard o' your tongue i' future." "It shall, ey promise ye," replied Susan, drying her eyes.
At this moment a door opened, and a woman entered from an inner room, having a high-crowned, conical-shaped hat on her head, and broad white pinners over her cheeks.

Her dress was of dark red camlet, with high-heeled shoes.

She stooped slightly, and being rather lame, supported herself on a crutch-handled stick.