gray-haired. He
stooped a little in walking. His countenance, as he came on, wore an
abstracted and somewhat doleful air; but in approaching Farren he looked
up, and then a hearty expression illuminated the preoccupied, serious
face.

"Is it you, William? How are you?" he asked.

"Middling, Mr. Hall. How are _ye_? Will ye step in and rest ye?"

Mr. Hall, whose name the reader has seen mentioned before (and who,
indeed, was vicar of Nunnely, of which parish Farren was a native, and
from whence he had removed but three years ago to reside in Briarfield,
for the convenience of being near Hollow's Mill, where he had obtained
work), entered the cottage, and having greeted the good-wife and the
children, sat down. He proceeded to talk very cheerfully about the
length of time that had elapsed since the family quitted his parish, the
changes which had occurred since; he answered questions touching his
sister Margaret, who was inquired after with much interest; he asked
questions in his turn, and at last, glancing hastily and anxiously round
through his spectacles (he wore spectacles, for he was short-sighted) at
the bare room, and at the meagre and wan faces of the circle about
him--for the children had come round his knee, and the father and mother
stood before him--he said abruptly,--

"And how are you all? How do you get on?"

Mr. Hall, be it remarked, though an accomplished scholar, not only spoke
with a strong northern accent, but, on occasion, used freely
north-country expressions.

"We get on poorly," said William; "we're all out of work. I've selled
most o' t' household stuff, as ye may see; and what we're to do next,
God knows."

"Has Mr. Moore turned you off?"

"He has turned us off; and I've sich an opinion of him now that I think
if he'd tak me on again to-morrow I wouldn't work for him."

"It is not like you to say so, William."

"I know it isn't; but I'm getting different to mysel'; I feel I am
changing. I wadn't heed if t' bairns and t' wife had enough to live on;
but they're pinched--they're pined----"

"Well, my lad, and so are you; I see you are. These are grievous times;
I see suffering wherever I turn. William, sit down. Grace, sit down. Let
us talk it over."

And in order the better to talk it over, Mr. Hall lifted the least of
the children on to his knee, and placed his hand on the head of the
next least; but when the small things began to chatter to him he bade
them "Whisht!" and fixing hi