"It's noan Nelly!" answered Joseph. "I sudn't shift for Nelly-nasty ill nowt as shoo is. Thank God! _shoo_ cannot stale t' sowl o' nob'dy! Shoo wer niver soa handsome, but what a body mud look at her 'bout winking. It's yon flaysome, graceless quean, that's witched our lad, wi' her bold een and her forrard ways-till-Nay! it fair brusts my heart! He's forgotten all I've done for him, and made on him, and goan and riven up a whole row o' t' grandest currant-trees i' t' garden!" and here he lamented outright; unmanned by a sense of his bitter injuries, and Earnshaw's ingratitude and dangerous condition.

'It's noan Nelly!' answered Joseph. 'It's yon graceless queen, that's witched our lad, wi' her bold eyes and her forrard ways. It bursts my heart! He's forgotten all I've done for him, and gone and riven up a whole row o' t' grandest currant-trees in t' garden!'
