en mi lad lay deead o'
th' fayver, and noan on 'em would come near me. He said I mut
(must) remember as th' Almeety had nobbud takken th' lad upstairs.
But aw sez, "Mr. Morell, theer's mony steps, an' I cornd climb
'em." "Yi," sez he, "theer is mony steps, but yo' keep climbin' on
'em every day, and one day yo'll ged to th' top and be i' th' same
raam (room) wi' him." An', doesto know, every time as I fretted
and felt daan, I used to think o' him as was upstairs, and
remember haa aw wur climbin' th' steps an' gettin' nearer him.'

'But yo've noan getten to th' top yet, Gronny.'

'No, aw hevn't, but aw'm a deal nearer nor aw wur when he first
laft me. An' doesto know, lass, aw feel misel to be gettin' so
near naa that aw can welly yer him singin'. There's nobbud a step
or two naa, and then we's be i' th' same raam.'

'An' is th' Almeety baan to mak' me climb as mony steps as thaa's
climbed afore I ged into th' same raam as He's takken little Job
too, thinksto?'

'Ey, lass. Aw durnd know; but whether thaa's to climb mony or few
thaa'll hev strength gien thee, as aw hev.'

'Aw wish God's other room wurnd so far off, Gronny--nobbud t'other
side o' th' wall instead o' th' story aboon. Durnd yo'?'

'Nay, lass; they're safer upstairs. Thaa knows He put's 'em aat o'
harm's way.'

'But aw somehaa think aw could ha' takken care o' little Job a bit
longer. And when he'd groon up, thaa knows, he could ha' takken
care o' me.'

'Yi, lass; we're awlus for patchin' th'Almeety's work; and if He
leet us, we's mak' a sorry mess on it and o'.'

'Well, Gronny, if I wur God Almeety I'd be agen lettin' lumps o'
coile fall and crush th' life aat o' lads like aar Job. It's a
queer way o' takkin 'em upstairs, as yo' co it.'

'Hooisht! lass, thaa mornd try to speerit through th' clouds that
are raand abaat His throne. He tak's one i' one way, an another i'
another; but if He tak's em to Hissel they're better off than
they'd be wi' us.'

'Well, Gronny, aw tell thee, aw cornd see it i' that way yet;' and
again the mother caressed the body of her son.

Once more she turned towards the old woman, and said:

'Aw shouldn't ha' caared so mich, Gronny, if he'd deed as yor lad
deed--i' his own bed, an' wi' a fayver; bud he wur crushed wi' a
lump o' coile! Poor little lad! Luk yo' here!' and the mother
bared the body and showed the discoloured parts.

'Did ta' ever see a child dee o' fayver, lass?'

'Not as aw know on. Aw've awlus bin