'
'It's just like him. Where's th' maunderin' foo gone to?' 'He's off
whoam.' 'Well,' said Isaac, 'let it stop where it is. There'll be
somebody after this i'th mornin'.' An' they had some rare fun th' next
day, afore they geet these things swapt to their gradely places.
However, th' last thing o' Saturday neet th' weshin'-machine wur brought
up fro th' clerk's, an' th' organ wur takken to th' chapel."
"Well, well," said th' owd woman; "they geet 'em reet at the end of
o', then?"
"Aye," said Skedlock; "but aw've noan done yet, Nanny."
"What, were'n they noan gradely sorted, then, at after o'?"
"Well," said Skedlock, "I'll tell yo.
"As I've yerd th' tale, this new organ wur tried for th' first time at
mornin' sarvice, th' next day. Dick-o'-Liddy's, th' bass singer, wur
pike't eawt to look after it, as he wur an' owd hond at music; an' th'
parson would ha' gan him a bit of a lesson, th' neet before, how to
manage it, like. But Dick reckon't that nobody'd no 'casion to larn him
nought belungin' sich like things as thoose. It wur a bonny come off if
a chap that had been a noted bass-singer five-and-forty year, an' could
tutor a claronet wi' ony mon i' Rosenda Forest, couldn't manage a
box-organ,--beawt bein' teyched wi' a parson.
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