An' there, sir, clucked in under a bit o' rock, an' pantin' for dear life, were ould Mally Skegg.

I tell 'ee, sir, the Squire made no more to do, but 'way to run, an' niver stopped till he were safe home to Tresawsen.
That's so.

Mally were a witch, like her mother afore her; an' the best proof es, her wore a limp arter this to the day o' her death." Mr.Fogo roused himself from his abstraction to ask-- "Do you seriously believe it was a ghost that I saw last night ?" "That's as may be.

Ef 'taint, 'tes folks as has no bus'ness hereabouts.

I've heerd tell as you'm wi'in the law ef you hails mun dree times afore firin'.