with Donkin for the little
delay occasioned by the necessity of arranging his work more fully.

'Ay! ay! all in good time; for a've a long tale to tell yet; an' a
mun have some 'un to iron me out my seams, and look me out my bits,
for there's none here fit for my purpose.'

'Dang thy bits! Here, Sylvie! Sylvie! come and be tailor's man, and
let t' chap get settled sharp, for a'm fain t' hear his story.'

Sylvia took her directions, and placed her irons in the fire, and
ran upstairs for the bundle which had been put aside by her careful
mother for occasions like the present. It consisted of small pieces
of various coloured cloth, cut out of old coats and waistcoats, and
similar garments, when the whole had become too much worn for use,
yet when part had been good enough to be treasured by a thrifty
housewife. Daniel grew angry before Donkin had selected his patterns
and settled the work to his own mind.

'Well,' said he at last; 'a mought be a young man a-goin' a wooin',
by t' pains thou'st taken for t' match my oud clothes. I don't care
if they're patched wi' scarlet, a tell thee; so as thou'lt work away
at thy tale wi' thy tongue, same time as thou works at thy needle
wi' thy fingers.'

'Then, as a were saying, all Monkshaven were like a nest o' wasps,
flyin' hither and thither, and makin' sich a buzzin' and a talkin'
as niver were; and each wi' his sting out, ready for t' vent his
venom o' rage and revenge. And women cryin' and sobbin' i' t'
streets--when, Lord help us! o' Saturday came a worse time than
iver! for all Friday there had been a kind o' expectation an' dismay
about t' _Good Fortune_, as t' mariners had said was off St Abb's
Head o' Thursday, when t' _Resolution_ came in; and there was wives
and maids wi' husbands an' sweethearts aboard t' _Good Fortune_
ready to throw their eyes out on their heads wi' gazin', gazin'
nor'ards over t'sea, as were all one haze o' blankness wi' t' rain;
and when t' afternoon tide comed in, an' niver a line on her to be
seen, folk were oncertain as t' whether she were holding off for
fear o' t' tender--as were out o' sight, too--or what were her mak'
o' goin' on. An' t' poor wet draggled women folk came up t' town,
some slowly cryin', as if their hearts was sick, an' others just
bent their heads to t' wind, and went straight to their homes,
nother looking nor speaking to ony one; but barred their doors, and
stiffened theirsels up for a night o' waiting. Saturday morn--yo