Sylvia's Lovers

'Niver believe her, Sylvie. She were a woman, and there's niver a

woman but likes to have a sweetheart, and can tell when a chap's

castin' sheep's-eyes at her; ay, an' afore he knows what he's about

hissen. She were a pretty one then, was my old 'ooman, an' liked

them as thought her so, though she did cock her head high, as bein'

a Preston, which were a family o' standin' and means i' those parts

aforetime. There's Philip there, I'll warrant, is as proud o' bein'

Preston by t' mother's side, for it runs i' t' blood, lass. A can

tell when a child of a Preston tak's to being proud o' their kin, by

t' cut o' their nose. Now Philip's and my missus's has a turn beyond

common i' their nostrils, as if they was sniffin' at t' rest of us

world, an' seein' if we was good enough for 'em to consort wi'. Thee

an' me, lass, is Robsons--oat-cake folk, while they's pie-crust.

Lord! how Bell used to speak to me, as short as though a wasn't a

Christian, an' a' t' time she loved me as her very life, an' well a

knew it, tho' a'd to mak' as tho' a didn't. Philip, when thou goes

courtin', come t' me, and a'll give thee many a wrinkle. A've shown,

too, as a know well how t' choose a good wife by tokens an' signs,

hannot a, missus? Come t' me, my lad, and show me t' lass, an' a'll

just tak' a squint at her, an' tell yo' if she'll do or not; an' if

she'll do, a'll teach yo' how to win her.' 'They say another o' yon Corney girls is going to be married,' said

Mrs. Robson, in her faint deliberate tones.

'By gosh, an' it's well thou'st spoke on 'em; a was as clean

forgettin' it as iver could be. A met Nanny Corney i' Monkshaven

last neet, and she axed me for t' let our Sylvia come o' New Year's

Eve, an' see Molly an' her man, that 'n as is wed beyond Newcassel,

they'll be over at her feyther's, for t' New Year, an' there's to be

a merry-making.' Sylvia's colour came, her eyes brightened, she would have liked to

go; but the thought of her mother came across her, and her features

fell. Her mother's eye caught the look and the change, and knew what

both meant as well as if Sylvia had spoken out.

'Thursday se'nnight,' said she. 'I'll be rare and strong by then,

and Sylvie shall go play hersen; she's been nurse-tending long

enough.' 'You're but weakly yet,' said Philip shortly; he did not intend to

say it, but the words seemed to come out in spite of himself.