“Somethin’ to this here effect. ‘Veller,’ she says, ‘I’m afeered I’ve not done by you quite wot I ought to have done; you’re a wery kindhearted man, and I might ha’ made your home more comfortabler. I begin to see now,’ she says, ‘ven it’s too late, that if a married ’ooman vishes to be religious, she should begin vith dischargin’ her dooties at home, and makin’ them as is about her cheerful and happy, and that vile she goes to church, or chapel, or wot not, at all proper times, she should be wery careful not to con-wert this sort o’ thing into a excuse for idleness or self-indulgence. I have done this,’ she says, ‘and I’ve vasted time and substance on them as has done it more than me; but I hope ven I’m gone, Veller, that you’ll think on me as I wos afore I know’d them people, and as I raly wos by natur’. ‘Susan,’ says I⁠—I wos took up wery short by this, Samivel; I von’t deny it, my boy⁠—‘Susan,’ I says, ‘you’ve been a wery good vife to me, altogether; don’t say nothin’ at all about it; keep a good heart, my dear; and you’ll live to see me punch that ’ere Stiggins’s head yet.’ She smiled at this, Samivel,” said the old gentleman, stifling a sigh with his pipe, “but she died arter all!”