Thou saidst, Nicholas, on Wednesday sennight--and it's now Tuesday i' th' second week--that afore a fortnight we'd ha' the masters coming a-begging to us to take back our work, at our own wage--and time's nearly up,--and there's our lile Jack lying a-bed, too weak to cry, but just every now and then sobbing up his heart for want o' food,--our lile Jack, I tell thee, lad! 
Thou saidst, Nicholas, near two weeks ago, that afore a fortnight we'd ha' the masters begging us to come back, at our own wage. Time's nearly up - and there's our Jack lying a-bed, too weak to cry - I tell thee, lad! 