"No, no," he replied; "if you're satisfied 'at they'll do it'll be
right to me, miss. This is your line, not mine, and there's nobody at
our end 'at knows ought much about photygraphs. And there's one thing
more 'at I want to say, only I hardly know how to say it. But it comes
to this: I don't want you to send any o' these photygraphs home until
you hear from Dr. Trempest. When he lets you know, just send 'em on,
and put a bit of a note in, like, to say 'at they're paid for. It'll
none be so long--a matter o' five weeks, maybe."

He unbuttoned a capacious pocket and drew out a bag of money, from
which he carefully counted out the amount of my bill, but when I
offered him a receipt he declined to take it.

"Nay, nay," he said, "I want nowt o' that sort. I can trust you; but
you'll have 'em ready when t' time comes, won't you?"

I assured him confidently, and as he turned to leave I expressed the
hope that he would like the prints when he saw them. Then it all came
out.

"I shall never see 'em. I shall be on t' moorside, with t'
cloud-shadows you talk about playing loup-frog aboon me by then.
That's why I wanted t' photygraphs. I only thought on 't when I passed
t' board, but there's them at home 'at 'll be glad to have 'em when I'm
gone."

Tears filled my eyes, for I am a woman as well as a photographer, and I
felt that I was face to face with a tragedy.

"Cannot you tell me about it?" I asked. "Believe me, I am very sorry.
Perhaps I could help. But please don't say anything if you would
rather not."

"There's not much to tell," he responded, "but what there is 'll soon
be all round t' moorside. You see, I've lived at yon farm, two miles
off, all my life, and I'm well known, and folks talk a good deal in
these country places, where there isn't much going on.

"I walked into Fawkshill to see Dr. Trempest this morning, and he's
been with me to Airlee to see a big doctor there--one o' these
consulting men--and he gives me a month or happen five weeks at t'
outside. There's nought can be done. Summat growing i' t' inside 'at
can't be fairly got at, and we shall have to make t' best on 't. But
it'll be a sad tale for t' missus and t' lass, and telling 'em is a job
I don't care for.

"You see, we none of us thought it was ought much 'at ailed me, for
I've always been a worker, and I haven't missed many meals i' five and
fifty year, and it comes a bit sudden-like at t' finish."

What could I say?