ustomers at this season.

The talk was of Blanchard, and Mr. Blee, provided with a theme which
always challenged his most forcible diction, discussed Will freely and
without prejudice.

"I 'most goes in fear of my life, I tell 'e; but thank God 't is the
beginning of the end. He'll spread his wings afore spring and be off
again, or I doan't knaw un. Ess fay, he'll depart wi' his fiery nature
an' horrible ideas 'pon manuring of land; an' a gude riddance for Monks
Barton, I say."

"'Mazing 't is," declared Mr. Coomstock, "that he should look so black
all times, seeing the gude fortune as turns up for un when most he wants
it."

"So 't is," admitted Billy. "The faace of un weer allus sulky, like to
the faace of a auld ram cat, as may have a gude heart in un for all his
glowerin' eyes. But him! Theer ban't no pleasin' un. What do he want?
Surely never no man 's failed on his feet awftener."

"'T is that what 's spoilin' un, I reckon," said Mr. Chappie. "A li'l
ill-fortune he wants now, same as a salad o' green stuff wants some bite
to it. He'd grumble in heaven, by the looks of un. An' yet it do shaw
the patience of God wi' human sawls."

"Ess, it do," answered Mr. Blee; "but patience ban't a virtue, pushed tu
far. Justice is justice, as I've said more 'n wance to Miller an'
Blanchard, tu, an' a man of my years can see wheer justice lies so clear
as God can. For why? Because theer ban't room for two opinions. I've
give my Maker best scores an' scores o' times, as we all must; but truth
caan't alter, an' having put thinking paarts into our heads, 't is more
'n God A'mighty's Self can do to keep us from usin' of'em."

"A tremenjous thought," said Mr. Chapple.

"So 't is. An' what I want to knaw is, why should Blanchard have his
fling, an' treat me like dirt, an' ride rough-shod awver his betters,
an' scowl at the sky all times, an' nothin' said?"

"Providence doan't answer a question just 'cause we 'm pleased to ax
wan," said Abraham Chown. "What happens happens, because 't is
foreordained, an' you caan't judge the right an' wrong of a man's life
from wan year or two or ten, more 'n you can judge a glass o' ale by a
tea-spoon of it. Many has a long rope awnly to hang themselves in the
end, by the wonnerful foresight of God."

"All the same, theer'd be hell an' Tommy to pay mighty quick, if you an'
me did the things that bwoy does, an' carried on that onreligious,"
replied Mr. Blee, with gloomy conviction. "Ban't f