far down in the street below was the turmoil of
city life; the roar and rush of it came echoing up even to that odd,
peaceful little chamber. The man neither saw nor heard; as he stood
there it seemed to him that he was looking out upon the moorland, with
the smell of the heather strong and spicy and sweet in his nostrils,
and the cry of the peewit in his ears. His chest heaved; then he
turned about and faced the room again. Yes, it was no dream; here was
the house-place of a North Country cottage. The sturdy deal table in
the midst of the sanded floor, the oak dresser with its noble array of
crockery, the big chest in the corner, the screened settle on one side
of the hearth; and there, kneeling on the patchwork rug, the sturdy,
strong-backed old woman, in bedgown and petticoat and frilled white
cap, with lean, vigorous arms half-buried in a shining mass of dough.

"Well, what's to do?" inquired she, glancing sharply over her
shoulder.

"This 'ere gentleman says he's brought news of our Will," said Mrs.
Whiteside hesitatingly.

The old woman uttered a cry, and, withdrawing her hands from the
dough, wiped them hastily in her apron, and ran towards the stranger.

"News indeed," she said. "Eh dear, and how is my poor lad? How is he,
sir? Eh, bless you for coomin'! I scarce reckoned he were wick, 'tis
so long sin' we'n had a word of him."

She was clasping the new-comer's hands now, and shaking them excitedly
up and down, her eyes searching his face the while.

"How is my lad?" she repeated. "He mun be a gradely mon now--a gradely
mon! Tis what he said hisself when he wur breeched. Dear o' me, I mind
it well. He come runnin' in so proud wi's hands in's pockets. 'I'm a
gradely mon now,' he says, 'same's my feyther.'"

She dropped his hands and wiped her eyes.

"My word, mother," said Mrs. Whiteside reprovingly, "how ye do run on!
Was my brother well, mester, when ye see him last?"

"Quite well," responded the stranger gruffly. "Well and hearty."

"Thank God for that!" cried the old woman.

"He told me," went on the other, and his voice still sounded rough and
harsh from behind his great beard; "he told me if I were anywhere in
Lancashire to look up the old place, and tell his folks he was alive
and well."

"Has he been doin' pretty well, sir, d'ye know?" inquired the younger
woman, politely, but with interest.

"Pretty well--lately; so I've been told," returned he.

"And he didn't send nothin' to his mothe