I departed to renew my search; its result was disappointment, and Joseph’s quest ended in the same.

“Yon lad gets war und war!” observed he on reentering. “He’s left th’ gate at t’ full swing, and Miss’s pony has trodden dahn two rigs o’ corn, and plottered through, raight o’er into t’ meadow! Hahsomdiver, t’ maister ’ull play t’ devil to-morn, and he’ll do weel. He’s patience itsseln wi’ sich careless, offald craters⁠—patience itsseln he is! Bud he’ll not be soa allus⁠—yah’s see, all on ye! Yah mun’n’t drive him out of his heead for nowt!”

“Have you found Heathcliff, you ass?” interrupted Catherine. “Have you been looking for him, as I ordered?”

“I sud more likker look for th’ horse,” he replied. “It ’ud be to more sense. Bud I can look for norther horse nur man of a neeght loike this⁠—as black as t’ chimbley! und Heathcliff’s noan t’ chap to coom at my whistle⁠—happen he’ll be less hard o’ hearing wi’ ye !”