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“Show my feàce!” says I, “an’ what sùd I show than?” says I. “If it cūms to showin’ feàces, I’ve a better feàce to show nor iver belang’t to yan o’ your breed,” says I, “if t’ rest on them’s owte like t’ sample they’ve sent us; but if yé mūn know, I’s cūm’t of a stock ’at niver wad be freetn’t to show a feàce till a king, let aleàn an oald newdles wid a creùkt nwose, ’at co’s his-sel’ a jolly jist: an’ I defy t’ feàce o’ clay,” says I, “to say ’at any on us iver dūd owte we need shām on whoariver we show’t oor feàces. Dār’ to show my feàce, eh?” says I, “my song! but this is a bonnie welcome to give a fellow ’at’s cum’t sa far to see yé i’ seckan a mwornin!” I said a gay deal mair o’t’ seàm mak’, an’ o’t’ while I was sayin’ on’t—or, I sūd say, o’t’ while I was shootin’ on’t, for I dudn’t spar’ t’ noise—t’ oald divel laid his-sel’ back iv his girt chair, an’ keept twiddlin’ his thooms an’ glimin’ ūp at mé, wid a hoaf smūrk iv his feàce, as if he’d gitten sum’at funny afooar him. Efter a while I stopt, for I’d ron me-sel’ varra nār oot o’ winnd, an’ I begon rayder to think shām o’ shootin’ an’ bellerin’ sooa at an oald man, an’ him as whisht as a troot throo it o’; an’ when I’d poo’t in, he just said as whietly as iver, ’at I was a natteral cur’osity. I dùdn’t ken weel what this meen’t, but I thowte it was soace, an’ it hed like to set mé off ageàn, but I beàtt it doon as weel as I cūd, an’ I said, “Hev yé gitten owte ageān mé?” says I. “If yé hev, speak it oot like a man, an’ divn’t sit theear twiddlin yer silly oald thooms an’ coa’in fwoke oot o’ ther neàms i’ that rwoad!” Than it o’ com oot plain aneuf. O’ this illnater was just acoase I hedn’t brong him t’ steàns ’at he’d gedder’t on t’ fells that het day, an’ he said ’at changin’ on them was ayder a varra dūrty trick or a varra clumsy jwoke. “Trick!” says I. “Jwoke! dud yé say? It was rayder past a jwoke to expect me to carry a leàd o’ brocken steàns o’t’ way here, when ther’ was plenty at t’ spot. I’s nūt sec a feùl as ye’ve teàn me for.” He tok off his specks, an’ he glower’t at mé adoot them; an’ than he pot them on ageàn, an’ glower’t at mé wid them; an’ than he laugh’t an’ ax’t mé if I thowte ther’ cud be nèa difference i’ steàns. “Whey,” says I, “ye’ll hardly hev t’ feàce to tell me ’at ya bag o’ steàns isn’t as gud as anudder bag o’ steàns—an’ suerlye to man, ye’ll niver be sa consaitit as to say yé can break steàns better nor oald Aberram ’at breaks them for his breid, an’ breaks them o’ day lang, an’ ivery day?” Wid that he laugh’t agean an’ tel’t mé to sit doon, an’ than ax’t me what I thowte meàd him tak so mickle trùble laitin’ bits o’ stean on t’ fells if he cud git what he wantit at t’ rwoad side. “Well!” says I, “if I mun tell yé t’ truth, I thowte yé war rayder nick’t i’ t’ heid; but it meàd nea matter what I thowte sa lang as yé pait mé sa weel for gān wid yé.” As I said this, it com into my held ’at it’s better to flaitch a feùl nor to feight wid him; an’ efter o’, ’at ther’ may’d be sum’at i’t’ oald man likin steans of his oan breakin’ better nor ūdder fwoke’s. I remember’t t’ fiddle ’at Dan Fisher meàd, an’ thowte was t’ best fiddle ’at iver squeak’t, for o’ it meàd ivery body else badly to hear’t; an’ wad bray oald Ben Wales at his dancing scheùl boal acoase Ben wadn’t play t’ heàm meád fiddle asteed of his oan. We o’ think meàst o’ what we’ve hed a hand in oorsel’s—it’s no’but natteral; an’ sooa as o’ this ron throo my heid, I fūnd me-sel’ gitten rayder sworry for t’ oald man, an’ I says, “What wad yé gi’ me to git yé o’ yer oan bits o’ steàn back ageàn?” He cockt up his lugs at this, an’ ax’t mé if his speciments, as he co’t them, was seàf. “Ey,” says I, “they’re seàf aneùf; nèabody hereaboot ’ill think a lal lock o’ steans worth meddlin’ on, sa lang as they divn’t lig i’ the’r rwoad.” Wid that he jūmpt ūp an’ said I mud hev sum’at to drink. Thinks I to me-sel’, “Cūm! we’re gittin’ back to oor oan menseful way ageàn at t’ lang last, but I willn’t stūr a peg till I ken what I’s to hev for gittin him his rubbish back, I wad niver hear t’ last on’t if I went heàm em’ty handit.” He meád it o’ reet hooiver, as I was tackin’ my drink; an’ he went up t’ stair an’ brong doon t’ ledder bags I kent sa weel, an’ geh mé them to carry just as if nowte hed happen’t, an’ off we startit varra like as we dūd afooar.