'In course her name was Winifred.'
'Liar! How came she to be called Winifred?'
'Well, I'm sure! Mayn't a Welshman's wife give her own on'y Welsh
darter a Welsh name? Us poor folks is come to somethink! P'raps
you'll say I ain't a Welshman's wife next? It's your own cussed lot
as killed her, ain't it? What did I tell the shiny Quaker when fust I
tookt her to the studero? I sez to the shiny un, "She's jist a bit
touched here," I sez' (tapping her own head), '"and nothink upsets
her so much as to be arsted a lot o' questions," I sez to the shiny
un. "The less you talks to her," I sez, "the better you'll get on
with her," I sez, "and the better kind o' pictur you'll make out on
her," I sez to the shiny un; "an' don't you go an' arst who her
father is," I sez, "for that word 'ull bring such a horful look on
her face," I sez, "as is enough to skear anybody to death. I sha'n't
forget the look the fust time I seed it," I sez. That's what I sez to
the shiny Quaker. An' yit you did go an' worrit 'er, a-arstin' 'er a
lot o' questions about 'er father.
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