human
Thank Heaven the mystery's read now, an' us can see how Miller had his eyes 'pon 'e both all along an' just waited for the critical stroke, said Mrs. Blanchard.
gpt
Sure I've knawed him these many years an' never could onderstand his hard way in this; but now all's clear.
human
He might have saved us a world of trouble and a sea o' tears if he'd awnly spoken sooner, whether or no,
gpt
He'm a gert man, wi' his awn way o' doin' things, like all gert men, he burst out;
human
Rap to the door quick, dear heart, said Phoebe,
gpt
No more rappin' after thicky butivul letter, answered Will.
human
Us'll gaw straight in.
gpt
You walk fust, Phoebe--'tis right you should, declared Mrs. Blanchard.
human
Then Will can follow 'e; an' me an' Chris--us'll walk 'bout for a bit, till you beckons from window.
gpt
Cheer up, Phoebe, cried Will.
human
Trouble's blawed awver for gude an' all now by the look of it. 'Tis plain sailing hencefarrard, thank God, that is, if a pair o' strong arms, working morning an' night for Miller, can bring it about.