"No, ma'am;--she ain't nasty," said the lover. "But she's crou'll--horrid crou'll. It's no more use my going down about meal and pollard, nor business, and she up here with that baro-nite,--no, no more nor nothin'! When I handles it I don't know whether its middlings nor nothin' else. If I was to twist his neck, ma'am, would you take it on yourself to say as I was wrong?"

"No, ma'am; she ain't nasty," said the lover. "But she's horrid crou'll. If I was to twist his neck, ma'am, would you say as I was wrong?"
