d us all, as she said with the tears running down
her cheeks:

"I'm only a poor common sort of woman, gentlemen, but I think a deal o'
my bairns, and I've come to say I'll never forget a prayer for the bonny
boy who saved my little laddie, nor for the true brave gentleman who
saved me to keep them still."

Uncle Jack shook hands with her, insisting upon her having a glass of
wine, but she would not sit down, and after she had drunk her wine she
turned to me.

I put out my hand, but she threw her arms round my neck, kissed me
quickly on each cheek, and ran sobbing out of the room, and nearly
oversetting Mr Tomplin, who was coming up.

"Hallo, my hero!" he cried, shaking hands with me.

"Please, please don't, Mr Tomplin," I cried. "I feel as if I'd never
do such a thing again as long as I live."

"Don't say that, my boy," he cried. "Say it if you like, though. You
don't mean it. I say, though, you folks have done it now."

We had done more than we thought, for the next morning when we walked
down to the office and Uncle Jack was saying that we must not be done
out of our holiday, who should be waiting at the gate but Gentles.

"Ugh!" said Uncle Jack; "there's that scoundrel. I hate that man. I
wish it had been someone else's child you had saved, Cob. Well, my
man," he cried roughly, "what is it?"

Gentles had taken off his cap, a piece of politeness very rare among his
set, and he looked down on the ground for a minute or two, and then
ended a painful silence by saying:

"I've been a reg'lar bad un to you and yours, mester; but it was the
traade as made me do it."

"Well, that's all over now, Gentles, and you've come to apologise?"

"Yes, mester, that's it. I'm down sorry, I am, and if you'll tek me on
again I'll sarve you like a man--ay, and I'll feight for thee like a man
agen the traade."

"Are you out of work?"

"Nay, mester, I can always get plenty if I like to wuck."

"Do you mean what you say, Gentles?"

"Why, mester, wouldn't I hev been going to club to-day for money to bury
a bairn and best wife a man ivver hed if it hadn't been for you two.
Mester, I'd do owt for you now."

"I believe you, Gentles," said Uncle Jack in his firm way. "Go back to
your stone."

Gentles smiled all over his face, and ran in before us whistling loudly
with his fingers, and the men all turned out and cheered us over and
over again, looking as delighted as so many boys.

"Mr Tomplin's right," said Uncle