! hooisht! ne'er mind Moses and his prayers. What did
he say about th' mortgage?'

'Say! why he said he'd oather hev his brass at ten o'clock
to-morn, or skift us wi' law. And he'll do it--that he will.'

'A, lad--thaa says truth. Owd Moses'll keep his word; he never
lies when he threatens poor fo'k like us. But I never thought it
ud come to this. I could ha' liked to ha' deed in th' owd chamber
aboon, and left th' haas feet fermost when I left it for good.'
And the old woman rocked herself in her grief over the dying fire.

'Well, gronmother, wee'n all to dee, and I durnd know as it
matters where we dee as long as we're ready. It's where we're baan
to live as bothers me,' said the hard-headed daughter-in-law.

'I've lived my life, thaa sees, lass. I'm nobbud waitin' to go to
them as is gone afore; and I could ha' liked to foller them from
th' owd haas. And then thaa'rt noan o' th' owd stock, lass. Thy
folks ne'er rooted theirsels i' th' soil like mine. It's fifty
year come next Whisundy (Whitsuntide) since Jimmie's faither
brought me here; and as I come in by wedlock, I could ha' liked to
ha' gone out by berryin'.'

'Come, mother,' said the now subdued son, 'we'll find a home for
thee, and when thaa dees we'll put thee away. Durnd tak' on like
that.'

But the old woman heeded not the kindly words of her son. Her
thoughts were in the past, and she was reliving the years that
were gone. Gazing into the expiring embers, she saw the forms of
long ago; and talking first to herself, and then to her son and
his wife, she continued, in a crooning voice:

'It's fifty year come next Whisundy sin thi faither brought me
here, lad--fifty year, and it only seems like yesterday. We were
wed at th' owd church i' Manchester. Dan o' Nodlocks, as used to
live up at th' Chapel-hill, drove us there and back in his new
spring-cart; and what wi' gettin' there and being spliced, and
comin' wom' we were all th' day at th' job. Th' sun were just
showin' hissel o'er th' hill yonder when we started, and it were
goin' daan o'er th' moors when we geet back; and thi faither,
Jimmy, as he lifted me daan from th' cart and put me in th' porch
yonder, kissed me and said: "Sunshine aatside, Jenny, and sunshine
in." An' that's fifty year ago, lad, and I've never slept out o'
th' owd haas from that neet to this, and I durnd want to leave it
naa.'

'Well, durnd tak' on like that, mother; if tha' does thaa'll break
my heart. We shall happen stop