“Poor Joe bean’t the chap he wur a year or more ago. His gal cut un, and that kind a took a hold on un. He dodn’t say much; but it wur a terrible blow, it wur.”
“How was it his girl cut him?” I asked.
“Well, you see, measter, it wur this way; she thought hersel’ a bit too high for un. Mind you, I baan’t a saying as she wur; but when a gal thinks hersel’ above a chap, it’s no use talking to her.”
“What was the girl’s name?”
“They call her Downie. Her father was a miller here in Knutsford, but his gal had too big notions of hersel’; and she chucked poor Joe Panton overboard, and they do say as how she took on wi’ Measter Charnworth and also wi’ Measter Trankler. I doan’t know nowt for certain myself, but there wur some rum kind o’ talk going about. Leastwise, I know that Joe took it badl
