"
"Eh, dear!... Well, yo known, they'n had a deal o' bother about music
up at that chapel, this year or two back. Yo'n bin a singer yo'rsel,
Nanny, i' yo'r young days--never a better."
"Eh, Skedlock," said Nanny; "aw us't to think I could ha' done a bit,
forty year sin--an' I could, too--though I say it mysel. I remember
gooin' to a oratory once, at Bury. Deborah Travis wur theer, fro Shay.
Eh! when aw yerd her sing 'Let the bright seraphim,' aw gav in.
Isherwood wur theer; an' her at's Mrs Wood neaw; an' two or three fro
Yawshur road on. It wur th' grand'st sing 'at ever I wur at i' my
life.... Eh, I's never forget th' practice-neets 'at we use't to have at
owd Israel Grindrod's! Johnny Brello wur one on 'em. He's bin deead a
good while.... That's wheer I let of our Sam. He sang bass at that
time.... Poor Johnny! He's bin deead aboon five-an-forty year, neaw."
"Well, but, Nanny," said Skedlock, laying his hand on the old woman's
shoulder, "yo known what a hard job it is to keep th' bant i'th nick wi'
a rook o' musicianers. They cap'n the world for bein' diversome, an'
jealous, an' bad to plez. Well, as I wur sayin'--they'n had a deeal o'
trouble about music this year or two back, up at th' owd chapel.
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