l warm us this cold day."

"Let the farm!" said both the lads at once, with infinite surprise. "Go
live in Manchester!"

When Samuel Orme found that the plan had never before been named to
either Will or Tom, he would have nothing to do with it, he said, until
they had spoken to their mother. Likely she was "dazed" by her husband's
death; he would wait a day or two, and not name it to any one; not to Tom
Higginbotham himself, or may be he would set his heart upon it. The lads
had better go in and talk it over with their mother. He bade them good-
day, and left them.

Will looked very gloomy, but he did not speak till they got near the
house. Then he said--

"Tom, go to th' shippon, and supper the cows. I want to speak to mother
alone."

When he entered the house-place, she was sitting before the fire, looking
into its embers. She did not hear him come in: for some time she had
lost her quick perception of outward things.

"Mother! what's this about going to Manchester?" asked he.

"Oh, lad!" said she, turning round, and speaking in a beseeching tone, "I
must go and seek our Lizzie. I cannot rest here for thinking on her.
Many's the time I've left thy father sleeping in bed, and stole to th'
window, and looked and looked my heart out towards Manchester, till I
thought I must just set out and tramp over moor and moss straight away
till I got there, and then lift up every downcast face till I came to our
Lizzie. And often, when the south wind was blowing soft among the
hollows, I've fancied (it could but be fancy, thou knowest) I heard her
crying upon me; and I've thought the voice came closer and closer, till
at last it was sobbing out, 'Mother!' close to the door; and I've stolen
down, and undone the latch before now, and looked out into the still,
black night, thinking to see her--and turned sick and sorrowful when I
heard no living sound but the sough of the wind dying away. Oh, speak
not to me of stopping here, when she may be perishing for hunger, like
the poor lad in the parable." And now she lifted up her voice, and wept
aloud.

Will was deeply grieved. He had been old enough to be told the family
shame when, more than two years before, his father had had his letter to
his daughter returned by her mistress in Manchester, telling him that
Lizzie had left her service some time--and why. He had sympathized with
his father's stern anger; though he had thought him something hard, it is
true, when