joyously. What is it you smell of? It s cool and warm and sweet all at
the same time.
It s th wind from th moor, said Mary. It comes o sittin on th
grass under a tree wi Dickon an wi Captain an Soot an Nut an
Shell. It s th springtime an out o doors an sunshine as smells so
graidely.
She said it as broadly as she could, and you do not know how broadly
Yorkshire sounds until you have heard someone speak it. Colin began to
laugh.
What are you doing? he said. I never heard you talk like that
before. How funny it sounds.
I m givin thee a bit o Yorkshire, answered Mary triumphantly. I
canna talk as graidely as Dickon an Martha can but tha sees I can
shape a bit. Doesn t tha understand a bit o Yorkshire when tha hears
it? An tha a Yorkshire lad thysel bred an born! Eh! I wonder tha rt
not ashamed o thy face.
And then she began to laugh too and they both laughed until they could
not stop themselves and they laughed until the room echoed and Mrs.
Medlock opening the door to come in drew back into the corridor and
stood listening amazed.
Well, upon my word! she said, speaking rather broad Yorkshire herself
because there was no one to hear her and she was so astonished.
Whoever heard th like! Whoever on earth would ha thought it!
There was so much to talk about. It seemed as if Colin could never hear
enough of Dickon and Captain and Soot and Nut and Shell and the pony
whose name was Jump. Mary had run round into the wood with Dickon to
see Jump. He was a tiny little shaggy moor pony with thick locks
hanging over his eyes and with a pretty face and a nuzzling velvet
nose. He was rather thin with living on moor grass but he was as tough
and wiry as if the muscle in his little legs had been made of steel
springs. He had lifted his head and whinnied softly the moment he saw
Dickon and he had trotted up to him and put his head across his
shoulder and then Dickon had talked into his ear and Jump had talked
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