'
'I don't _understand_ you, sir; and I _beg_ that you'll leave me.'
'Now, didn't I tell ye about leavin' ye, Maud? 'tis the only thing I can't
compass for yer sake. I'm jest a child in yere hands, I am, ye know. I can
lick a big fellah to pot as limp as a rag, by George!'--(his oaths were not
really so mild)--'ye see summat o' that t'other day. Well, don't be vexed,
Maud; 'twas all along o' you; ye know, I wor a bit jealous, 'appen; but
anyhow I can do it; and look at me here, jest a child, I say, in yer
hands.'
'I wish you'd go away. Have you nothing to do, and no one to see? Why
_can't_ you leave me alone, sir?'
''Cos I can't, Maud, that's jest why; and I wonder, Maud, how can you be so
ill-natured, when you see me like this; how can ye?'
'I wish Milly would come,' said I peevishly, looking toward the door.
'Well, I'll tell you how it is, Maud. I may as well have it out. I like
you better than any lass that ever I saw, a deal; you're nicer by chalks;
there's none like ye--there isn't; and I wish you'd have me. I ha'n't much
tin--father's run through a deal, he's pretty well up a tree, ye know; but
though I baint so rich as some folk, I'm a better man, 'appen; and if ye'd
take a tidy lad, that likes ye awful, and 'id die for your sake, why here
he is.
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