tha does; but aw know varry weel that lad
wod ha been a painter if tha'd had patience to taich him. But whear's
that pictur' he did paint? Tha'rt fond enuff o' shewin' thi own wark;
let's luk at somdy's else."

"He nivver tried his hand but once, an it wor this," he sed, as he'
pooled one aght o' th' corner, "an when he showed it me aw'd to luk at
it for a long time befoor aw could tell what to mak on it, but at last
aw decided it wor a camel; but he wor soa mad 'at he sed he'd nivver
paint another so long as he lived, for it wor a drake. Soa, to prevent
onybody else makkin sich another mistak, aw've written on th' bottom'
This is a drake."

"Tha can say what tha likes, David, but hawf a bad en, an if yo can
nobbut catch leets, aw'm sewer ther's monny a thing less like a drake
nor that. Dooant yo think soa?" shoo sed, turnin' to me.

Aw sed aw thowt soa, too: an then David axed me to goa into his study,
"For yo mun know," he sed, "aw've a study, an a studio, an a museum, an
a wild beast show i, this haase, as little as it is."

He led the way into another raam abaat as big as that we'd left, an
showed me a row o' shelves filled wi books, an a little table covered wi
papers; an aw tell'd him aw thowt he wor quite a literary sooart ov a
chap.

"Why," he sed, "aw've allus been fond o' readin' sin aw wor a bit ov a
lad, an sometimes aw string a line or two together 'at jingles varry
nicely, an two or three times aw've had some printed i'th' papers. Mun,
it's varry nice to be able to sit daan an eease yor mind wi writin' a
bit, even if nubdy reads it. That lad o' mine cares nowt abaat it; aw
wish he did, for aw believe if he'd takken to study he'd ha been a
wonder, for he's a rare heead--it tak's a hat ommost as big as a
coil-skep to fit it. Aw gate him to try one time, an he wor a whole day
i' gettin' theeas four lines, aw allus keep 'em by me, for aw know he'll
nivver write ony moor.":--

'Aw once wor lost on Norland Moor,
An' if aw'd ne'er been fun,
Mooast likely aw'st a been thear yet,
An nah mi tale is done.'

"Tha'rt varry fond o' runnin daan them 'at belangs to thee," sed Dolly,
"an to hear thee tawk fowk ud think he could nivver do owt reight; but
if that isn't poetry, aw should like to know what is, for awm sewer
ther's a deeal more common sense in it nor ther is i' lots o' thine. But
thear he is gooin past th' winder, an he knows ther isn't a drop o'
watter i' th' haase, an aw can't b