“Well, aw think ther’s some sense i’ what tha says, soa aw think aw’ll try some; ha does ta sell ’em?”

“If tha buys a box they’re a penny, but they corne in cheaper to buy ’em bi weight, an’ as its thee aw’ll let thi have a pund for a shillin’; if it wor onybody else, they’d be sixteen pence.”

“Well, aw’ll tak a pund, onyway.  An’ if aw can’t tak ’em all misen, they’ll happen be useful to somdy else.”

“Tha mun tak ’em all thisen, an’ then tha’ll feel th’ benefit on em,” sed Jim.

“Well,” sed John, when he’d getten ’em teed up in his hankerchy, “aw wish yo gooid day, an aw’ll come an’ see yo in a bit to repoort progress.”

John limped hooam as weel as he could, an’ after puttin’ th’ pills into a pint basin i’th’ cubbard, he went to bed.  His wife axed him what he could like to his supper, but he sed he worn’t particklar, soa shoo went daanstairs, an’ when shoo luk’d i’th’ cubbard, shoo saw this basin o’ pills, but shoo thowt they wor pays; soa shoo gate a bit o’ mutton an’ made a sup o’ broth an’ put ’em in; an’ when they’d been boilin’ awhile shoo couldn’t find ’em hardly.  “Why,” shoo sed, “aw niver saw sich pays as theease i’ all mi life; they’ve all boiled to smush.”  Shoo tuk him a basinful upstairs, an’ after a spooinful or two, he sed he thowt they tasted rayther queer.  “Oh! it’s thi maath at’s aght o’ order, mun,” shoo sed; “get ’em into thee, they’re sure to do thee gooid.”

John tew’d hard wi’ ’em an’ at last he finished ’em.  “Niver buy ony moor pays at that shop,” he sed, “for aw’m sure they’re nooan reight.

“Aw didn’t buy ’em,” shoo sed, “they’re what wor i’th’ cubbard; aw thowt tha’d put ’em thear thisen.”

When John heeard that, he knew in a minit what shoo’d done, an’ he stared at her.

“What are ta staring at, wi’ thi een an’ thi maath wide oppen like that?” sed his wife.

“Tha’d ha’ thi een an’ thi maath oppen if tha’d swallowed what aw have,” he said, “for they’ll oppen ewt.”

John gate up an’ dressed an’ went aght, an’ as he didn’t offer to come back, his wife an’ two or three ov his mates went to seek him; an’ a few yards off th’ door they fan his clooas an’ hat an’ a pair o’ booits, an’ in one o’th’ booits they fan a bunion,—­an’ that wor all ther wor left o’ John.

It wor rayther a awkard thing to swear to, but his wife sed shoo couldn’t be mistakken, for shoo knew it soa weel wol shoo’d be bun to be able to pick it aght ov a looad o’ new puttates.  Ov cooarse, they’d a inquest, but as ther wor noa evidence, an’ sich a case had niver been known befoor, they returned a oppen verdict.

A few days after, as Pill Jim wor gooin’ past th’ church yard, he saw a chap oppenin’ a grave, an’ axed him who he wor oppenin’ it for; an’ when he heeard it wor for th’ remains o’ poor John, he muttered to hissen, “Noa wonder! noa wonder! them pills, they’ll oppen owt.  Aw wor sure they’d awther drive th’ bunion away throo John, or John away throo th’ bunion, which wor for th’ best aw connot tell; its an oppen question—­ them pills leeave ivery—­thing oppen.”