lie quiet for an
instant moment. You know that modesty was Sarah's passion, and she'd
rather have a pink daisy on her pit and a blackbird pulling a worm out of
the green grass than all the monuments in the stone-cutter's window."

He listened and she ran on:

"Her virtues be in our hearts, and it won't better it to print 'em in the
churchyard; and if I was you and wanted to make heaven a brighter place
for Sarah than it already is, I'd lift up a modest affair and put a bit of
money away to goody for your little ones."

"I dare say that's a very clever thought," admitted Jonas.

"Yes, it is, then," went on Milly. "She didn't help you to be a saver for
vain things like grave-stones that don't bring in no interest to nobody.
And if it was the measurement of your sorrow, I'd say nothing, but 'tis
well known remorse be at the foundation of half the fine monuments widow
men put up to their partners, and you don't need to tell nobody in
Thorpe-Michael what you thought of Sarah and how she was the light of your
house, for we well know it."

"I won't do nothing skimpy, however," said Jonas.

"I'm sure you won't," she answered, "but in the matter of monuments 'tis a
very good rule to wait till the grave be ready to carry 'em; and by that
time the bereaved party have generally settled down to take a sensible
view of the situation."

He nodded, and from that evening he began to see what a fine headpiece
Milly had got to her. In fact she was a very entertaining woman and as
time went on and his childer grew to love her, Jonas was a lot puzzled at
the thoughts that began to move in his brain. He turned to work, which is
a very present help in trouble, and he did overtime and laboured something
tremendous at his bench. In fact, if he'd belonged to a Trades Union,
Jonas would have heard of it to his discredit, for there's nothing the
unions dread more than a man who loves work and does all he knows for the
pride of it plus the extra money. But Jonas was on his own and independent
to all but his conscience--and his master didn't see no sin in paying him
what he was worth.

He'd always been a saver, and his wife had helped him in that respect, but
now his money was no more than dust in the corners of his mind, for there
weren't no eye to brighten when he told of a bit more put by and no tongue
to applaud and tell him what a model sort of man he was. He found,
however, as he came to know Milly Bassett better, that though his good