're as thrang as an auld peat wife, I's warn. I'll mak'
it myself. I's rather partic'lar about my poddish, forby. Dusta know how
many faults poddish may have? They may be sour, sooty, sodden, and
savorless, soat, welsh, brocken, and lumpy--and that's mair nor enough,
thoo knows."

Gubblum had gone down on the hearth-rug.

"Why, and here's the son and heir," he said. "Nay, laddie, mind my
claes--they'll dirty thy brand-new brat for thee."

"Is he growing, Gubblum?"

"Growing?--amain."

"And his eyes--are they changing color?--going brown?"

"Maybe--I'll not be for saying nay."

"Is he--is he very like me?"

"Nay--weel--nay--I's fancying I see summat of the stranger in the laal
chap at whiles."

The young mother turned her head. Gubblum twisted to where Matthew sat.

"That man and all his raggabrash are raking about this morning. It caps
all, it does, for sure."

The old charcoal-burner did not answer. He paused with the spoon half
raised, glanced at Mercy, and then went on with his broth.

"Hasta heard of the lang yammer in the papers about yon matter?" said
Gubblum.

"Nay," said Matthew, "I hears nowt of the papers."

"He's like to hang a lang crag when he hears about it."

"I mak' na doubt," said Matthew, showing no curiosity.

"It's my belief 'at the auld woman at Hendon is turning tail. You mind
she was down last back end, and he wadn't have nowt to say to her."

"Ey, I mind her," said Matthew.

"Every dog has his day, and I reckon yon dog's day is nigh amaist done.
And it wad have been a vast shorter on'y Mercy hadn't her eyes."

"Ey, ey," said Matthew, quietly.

"If the lass had no'but been able to say, 'Yon man is Drayton, and yon
as you've got in prison is Ritson, and I saw the bad wark done,' that
would have settled it."

"Na doot," said Matthew, his head in the bowl.

"They warn't for hearing me. When the parson took me up to Lunnon mair
nor a twelvemonth agone, they sent us baith home with our tails atween
our legs. 'Bring us the young woman,' they said; 'your evidence will
stand aside hers, but not alone. Bring the young woman to 'dentify,'
they says. 'She's gone blind,' we says. 'We can't help that,' they says.
And that's what they call justice up in Lunnon."

"Ey, ey," said Matthew.

"But then thoo has to mak' 'lowances for them gentry folk--they've never
been larn't no better, thoo sees."

Gubblum's porridge was bubbling, and the thivel worked vigorously.
Matthew had picked