New Year's Fete

'Niver believe her, Sylvie. She were a woman, and there's niver a
woman but likes to have a sweetheart, and can tell when a chap's
castin' sheep's-eyes at her; ay, an' afore he knows what he's about
hissen. She were a pretty one then, was my old 'ooman, an' liked
them as thought her so, though she did cock her head high, as bein'
a Preston, which were a family o' standin' and means i' those parts
aforetime. There's Philip there, I'll warrant, is as proud o' bein'
Preston by t' mother's side, for it runs i' t' blood, lass. A can
tell when a child of a Preston tak's to being proud o' their kin, by
t' cut o' their nose. Now Philip's and my missus's has a turn beyond
common i' their nostrils, as if they was sniffin' at t' rest of us
world, an' seein' if we was good enough for 'em to consort wi'. Thee
an' me, lass, is Robsons--oat-cake folk, while they's pie-crust.
Lord! how Bell used to speak to me, as short as though a wasn't a
Christian, an' a' t' time she loved me as her very life, an' well a
knew it, tho' a'd to mak' as tho' a didn't. Philip, when thou goes
courtin', come t' me, and a'll give thee many a wrinkle. A've shown,
too, as a know well how t' choose a good wife by tokens an' signs,
hannot a, missus? Come t' me, my lad, and show me t' lass, an' a'll
just tak' a squint at her, an' tell yo' if she'll do or not; an' if
she'll do, a'll teach yo' how to win her.' 'They say another o' yon Corney girls is going to be married,' said
Mrs. Robson, in her faint deliberate tones.