ble dwelling; and then the two fell into
talk--first about Kester, whom his sister would persist in calling
Christopher, as if his dignity as her elder brother was compromised
by any familiar abbreviation; and by-and-by she opened her heart a
little more.

'A could wish as a'd learned write-of-hand,' said she; 'for a've
that for to tell Christopher as might set his mind at ease. But yo'
see, if a wrote him a letter he couldn't read it; so a just comfort
mysel' wi' thinkin' nobody need learn writin' unless they'n got
friends as can read. But a reckon he'd ha' been glad to hear as a've
getten a lodger.' Here she nodded her head in the direction of the
door opening out of the house-place into the 'lean-to', which Sylvia
had observed on drawing near the cottage, and the recollection of
the mention of which by Kester had enabled her to identify widow
Dobson's dwelling. 'He's a-bed yonder,' the latter continued,
dropping her voice. 'He's a queer-lookin' tyke, but a don't think as
he's a bad un.'

'When did he come?' said Sylvia, remembering Kester's account of his
sister's character, and feeling as though it behoved her, as
Kester's confidante on this head, to give cautious and prudent
advice.

'Eh! a matter of a s'ennight ago. A'm noane good at mindin' time;
he's paid me his rent twice, but then he were keen to pay aforehand.
He'd comed in one night, an' sate him down afore he could speak, he
were so done up; he'd been on tramp this many a day, a reckon. "Can
yo' give me a bed?" says he, panting like, after a bit. "A chap as a
met near here says as yo've a lodging for t' let." "Ay," says a, "a
ha' that; but yo' mun pay me a shilling a week for 't." Then my mind
misgive me, for a thought he hadn't a shilling i' t' world, an' yet
if he hadn't, a should just ha' gi'en him t' bed a' t' same: a'm not
one as can turn a dog out if he comes t' me wearied o' his life. So
he outs wi' a shillin', an' lays it down on t' table, 'bout a word.
"A'll not trouble yo' long," says he. "A'm one as is best out o' t'
world," he says. Then a thought as a'd been a bit hard upon him. An'
says I, "A'm a widow-woman, and one as has getten but few friends:"
for yo' see a were low about our Christopher's goin' away north; "so
a'm forced-like to speak hard to folk; but a've made mysel' some
stirabout for my supper; and if yo'd like t' share an' share about
wi' me, it's but puttin' a sup more watter to 't, and God's blessing
'll be on 't, just as sam