‘But I noan tremble, Amos; I geet too mich brimstone i’ yon fire hoile to be flayed at what yo’ say is “resarved” for them as isn’t called.’

(Dan’s occupation was to feed the boiler fires.)

‘If thaa’rt noan flayed, that doesn’t say thaa hasn’t a devil,’ replied Amos, again raising the can to his lips.

‘Well, I’m noan to blame if a’ cornd help miself, am I?’

But Amos remained silent.

‘Aw say, Amos,’ said a thoughtful-looking man, ’aw often wonder if thaa’ll be content when thaa geets up aboon to see us lot in t’other shop.’

‘Yi! and when we ax him, as th’ rich mon axed Lazarus, for a sooap (drink) of summat cool, it’ll be hard lines, wirnd (will not) it, owd lad, when thaa cornd help us?’ asked the man who sat against him.

‘Happen it will,’ replied Amos.  ’But thaa knows there’ll be no sharin’ baggin (tea or refreshment) there.  Them as hed oil couldn’t gi’ it to them as hed noan.’

‘Then thaa’ll not come across the gulf and help us, Amos?’

‘Nowe!’ cried Dan.  ‘He’d brun (burn) his wings if he did.’

And at this all laughed, save the thoughtful man who put the first question to the old Calvinist.

‘Thaa knows, Amos,’ said he, ‘I look at it i’ this way.  Supposin’ th’ factory geet o’ fire this mornin’, an’ yo’ hed th’ chance o’ savin’ that lass o’ mine that back-tents for yo’, yo’d save her, wouldn’t yo’?’

‘Yi, lad, if I’d th’ chance,’ replied Amos.

‘Then haa is it yo’re so mich better nor Him, as yo’ co th’ Almeety, for yo’ reckon He’ll noan save some o’ us?’

‘I tell thee I’d save th’ lass if I hed th’ chance.  We con nobbud do what we’re permitted to do.  We’re only instruments in th’ Almeety’s honds.’

‘But isn’t th’ Almeety His own Measter?’

‘So He is, but His ways are past findin’ out.’

‘An’ thaa means to say thaa’d save my lass, and th’ Almeety wouldn’t save me?’

‘It’s decrees, thaa knows, lad, it’s decrees,’ said Amos, unshaken by the argument of his friend.

‘Then there’s summat wrang with th’ decrees, that’s all, Amos.  There’s been a mistak’ somewhere.’

‘Hooist, lad! hooist! durnd talk like that.  Woe to th’ mon that strives wi’ his Maker.’

‘If thi Maker’s th’ mon thaa maks Him aat to be, I’m noan partic’lar abaat oather His woes or His blessin’s.’

‘No more am I,’ cried Dan, as he stood up and stretched himself with a yawn.  ‘We mud as well mak’ most o’ life if we’re booked for t’other shop, though mine’s a warm un i’ this world, as yo’ all know.’

’It is not of him that willeth nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy,’ said Amos, in solemn tones.

And the whistle sounded for the renewal of work, and the men dispersed.

* * * * *