But
afore long,' continued the old woman, leering round at Cyril, 'lo!
and behold, a young swell, p'raps a young lord in disguise (I don't
want to be pussonal, an' so I sha'n't tell his name), 'e comes into
that studero one day when I was a-settlin' up with the Quaker gent
for the week's pay, an' he sets an' admires me, till I sets an'
blushes as I'm a-blushin' at this werry moment; an' when I gits 'ome,
I sez to Polly Onion (that's a pal o' mine as lives on the ground
floor), I sez, "Poll, bring my best lookin'-glass out o' my bowdore,
an' let's have a look at my old chops, for I'm blowed if there ain't
a young swell, p'raps a young lord in disguise, as 'ez fell 'ead over
ears in love with me." And sure enough when I goes back to the
studero the werry nex' time, my young swell 'e sez to me, "It's your
own pootty face as I wants for _my_ moral. I dessay your darter's a
stunner--I ain't seen her yit--but she cain't be nothin' to you." And
I sez to 'im, "In course she ain't, for she takes arter her father's
family, pore gal, and werry sorry she is for it.
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