"I've made up my mind to go." "Nay, nay, I tell thee.

Thou wean't goo, lads." "Indeed but we will," cried Dick energetically.
"What, goo ?" "Yes." "Height awayer ?" "Yes, right away." "Then what's to become of me ?" cried the wheelwright excitedly.
"Become of you! Why, what's it got to do with you ?" cried Tom surlily.
"Do wi' me! Why, iverything.

What's the good o' my punt?
what's the good o' me laying up a couple o' good ash-poles for you, and putting a bit o' wood up chimney to season, so as to hev it ready for new soles for your pattens [skates] next winter.

Good, indeed! What call hev you to talk that clat ?" "You're a good old chap, Hicky," said Dick, smiling up at the big fellow; "but you can't understand what I feel over this." "Hey, bud I can," cried the wheelwright quickly; "you feel just the same as I did when Farmer Tallington--Tom's father here--said I'd sent him in his bill after he'd sattled it; and as I did when my missus said I'd took half a guinea outer money-box to spend i' town.

I know, lads.
Yes, I know." "Well, I suppose it is something like that, Hicky," said Dick sadly.
"Ay, joost the same; bud I didn't tell Farmer Tallington as I should go for a soldier, and I didn't turn on my wife and tell her I should go to sea." Dick was silent the rest of the way home, but he shook hands very solemnly with Tom, and Tom pressed his hand hard as they parted at the farm.