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She flagged and pined; and when the spring began to advance a little, and the sun to shine, her misery became quite troublesome, her continual wail being “for the poor sinful craythur who was shut up among stone walls, and would be sure to come out worse than she went in!”

I’m a great sinner; I can’t say, God forgive her; nor I can’t work; and it’s put me apast doing my duty; and Jessie, the craythur, laid ever so much store by it, on account of the little innocent charrums; and, altogether, it’s the sorest Christmas day that ever came to me.

Then cook had given her a “drap of the craythur” to keep out the cold.

An’ the pore craythur is a hankerin’ to get nearer.

I’m sure I’ve taken good care of the pore ould craythur, an’ I hope some wan will do the same to me at the last.”