said Dr. Hale; 'there's no medicine like tears.'

* * * * *

That night, long after the snow had ceased to fall, and the
tempestuous winds with folded wings were hushed in repose, and
distant stars glittered in steely brightness, the two women,
holding each other's hand, sat over the hearth of the solitary
moorland farmstead. They were widows both, and both now were
sisters in the loss of an only child.

Granny, as she was called, bore that name not from relationship,
but from her kindliness and age. It was the pet name given to her
by the colliers to whom she so often ministered in their risks and
exposures at the adjacent pit. Into her life the rain had fallen.
After fifteen years of domestic joy, her only child, a son, fell
before the breath of fever, and in the shadow of that loss she
ever since walked. Then her husband succumbed to the exposure of a
winter's toil, and now for long she had lived alone. But as she
used to say, 'Suppin' sorrow had made her to sup others' sorrow
with them.' Her cup, though deep and full, had not embittered her
heart, but led her to drink with those whose cup was deeper than
her own. The death of little Job had rolled away the stone from
the mouth of the sepulchre of her own dead child; and as she held
the hand of the lately-bereaved mother she dropped many a word of
comfort.

'I'll tell thee what aw've bin thinkin',' said the old woman.

'What han yo' bin thinkin', Gronny?'

'Why, I've bin thinkin' haa good th' Almeety is--He's med angels
o' them as we med lads.'

'I durnd know what yo' mean, Gronny.'

'Why, it's i' this way, lass; my Jimmy and yor little Job wur aar
own, wurnd they?'

'Yi, forsure they wur.'

'We feshioned 'em, as the Psalmist sez, didn't we?'

'Thaa sez truth, Gronny,' wept the younger woman.

'And we feshioned 'em lads an' o'.'

'Yi, and fine uns; leastways, my little Job wur--bless him.'

And the mother turned her tearful eyes towards the settle whereon
lay the corpse.

'Well, cornd yo' see as God hes finished aar wark for us, and what
we made lads, He's made angels on?'

'But aw'd sooner ha' kept mine. Angels are up aboon, thaa knows;
an' heaven's a long way off.'

'Happen noan so far as thaa thinks, lass; and then th' Almeety
will do better by 'em nor we con.'

'Nay, noan so, Gronny. God cornd love Job better nor I loved him.'

'But he willn't ged crushed in a coile seam i' heaven; naa, lass,
will he?'