a' been
different. He'd ha' kept his mother on the moor. If he was to come
back now he'd have her awhoam again afore aught were long."

"Tis wonderful to hear you takin' up wi' that homely talk," said Mrs.
Whiteside, with a laugh, as she set a crusty loaf upon the table. "It
fair brings me back. I scarce ever talk i' th' owd fashion now, wi'out
'tis a twothree words now an' then to please mother. Pull up, sir.
Will ye pour out the tea, mother? All's ready now."

"Nay, fetch me a pot of the wimberry jam," said Mrs. Rigby. "Theer's
jest two of 'em left. My son-in-law," she explained to the visitor,
"he's oncommon kind about humourin' my fancies, an' every year he
fetches me a peck or two o' wimberries--you can get 'em reet enough
here i' th' market, an' I make us a few pots o' jam--'tis the only
kind as ever I could fancy. Eh, what baskets-full the childer used to
bring me in i' th' owd days! Will ye cut yourself a bit o' bread, sir?
Tis a bit hard, I doubt; 'tis the end o' the last bakin'. I wur jest
agate with the next lot when ye coom in."

He cut off a piece, and spread it with the wimberry jam, and ate a
mouthful or two in silence; he seemed to swallow with difficulty, not
because of the hardness of the fare, but because of a certain stirring
at his heart. How long was it since he had sat him down at such a
board as this, and tasted bread, pure and sweet and wholesome, such as
cannot be bought in shops, with the fruit of the moor for condiment?

"I doubt it's hard," said Mrs. Whiteside commiseratingly, "and you're
not eatin' a bit neither, mother. Come, fall to."

"Eh, I canna eat nought fur thinkin' o' yon lad o' mine. How could he
go for to think he'd not be welcome! Ye'll write and an' tell him
he'll be welcome, sir, wunnot ye?"

He nodded.

"Eh, I'd be fain to see him, I would that! Ye'll tell him kind an'
careful, mester, about me havin' to shift here, an' dunnot let him
think I'm axing him to do mich for me."

"It's time for him to do summat for ye, though," said Will's friend
gruffly.

"Nay, I don't ax it--I don't ax for nought. I nobbut want to see his
bonny face again."

"Happen you wouldn't know it," said Mrs. Whiteside; "he mun be awful
altered now."

"Know it? Know my own lad! I'd pick him out among a thousand."

"I'm not so sure o' that," persisted her daughter. "Ye've seen our
Will lately, I s'pose, mester? Can ye tell us what like he is?"

"He's rather like me," said the stranger.

"