human
Caan't 'e say what's happened, you chitterin' auld magpie? I'll go up village for the news in a minute. I lay 'tis knawn theer.
gpt
Ban't I tellin' of 'e? 'Tis like this. Will Blanchard's been mixin' a bit of chopped fuzz with the sheep's meal these hard times, like his betters. But now I've seed hisself today, lookin' so auld as Cosdon 'bout it. He was gwaine to the horse doctor to Moreton. An' he tawld me to keep my mouth shut, which I've done for the most paart.
human
A little fuzz chopped fine doan't hurt sheep.
gpt
Just so. 'Cause why? They aint got no 'bibles' in their innards; but he've gone an' given it same way to the bullocks.
human
Gude God!
gpt
How many's down? 'Twas all he had to count upon.
human
Awnly eight standin' when he left. I could have cried 'bout it when he tawld me. He 'm clay in the Potter's hand for sartain. Theer's nought squenches a chap like havin' the bailiffs in.
gpt
Cruel luck! I'd meant to let him be sold out for his gude--but now.
human
Do what you meant to. Doan't go back on it. 'Tis for his gude. 'Twas his awn mistake. He tawld me the blame was his. Let un get on the bed rock. Then he'll be meek as a worm.
gpt
I doubt it. A sale of his goods will break his heart.
human
Not it! He haven't got much as'll be hard to paart from. Stern measures--stern measures for his everlastin' welfare. Think of the wild-fire sawl of un! Never yet did a sawl want steadin' worse'n his. Keep you to the fust plan, and he'll thank'e yet.