"'
'Called you what?'
'Ain't I a-tellin' you? She called me "Knocker"; and that's the very
name as she allus called me up to the day of 'er death, pore dear! I
tried to make 'er come along o' me, an' she wouldn't stir, an' so I
left 'er, meanin' to go back; but when I got to my sister's by
marriage, there was a letter for me an' it wur from Polly Onion,
a-sayin' as my pore Jenny died the same day as I left London,
a-sayin', "Mother, vi'lets, vi'lets; mother, vi'lets, vi'lets!" an'
was buried by the parish. An' that upset me, p'leaceman, an' made me
swownd, an' when I comed to, I couldn't hear nothink only my pore
Jenny's voice a-sobbin' on the wind, "Mother, vi'lets, vi'lets;
mother, vi'lets, vi'lets!" an' that sent me off my 'ead a bit, an' I
run out o' the 'ouse, an' there was Jenny's voice a-goin' on before
me a-sobbin', "Mother, vi'lets, vi'lets; mother, vi'lets, vi'lets!"
an' it seemed to lead me back to the churchyard; an' lo an' be'old!
there was the pore half-starved creatur' a-settin' there jist as I'd
left 'er, an' I sez, "God bless you, my gal, you're a-starvin'!" an'
she jumped up, an' she comed an' throwed 'er arms round my waist, an'
there we stood both on us a-cryin' togither, an' then I runned back
into Carnarvon, an' fetched 'er some grub, an' she tucked into the
grub.
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