“Nay, Susy, its summat moor serious nor that.  Aw thowt aw should find thee here.  Aw hope tha arn’t mad at aw’ve come.”

“What should aw be mad for?  Tha’s as mich reight to be here as me,—­an if it comes to that aw suppooas we’ve nawther on us onny business here an aw think aw’ll be gooin.”

“Net just yet, Susy;—­stop a minnit,—­aw’ve summat to say.  Its varry particlar.  Can’t ta guess what it is?”

“Aw dooant know unless tha’rt gooin to find fault abaat mi piece, an awm sewer aw’ve done mi best wi it, but yond warp’s rotten.”

“Its nowt abaat thi wark, its moor important to me nor all th’ wark i’th shed.  O, Susy, awm sewer tha must know what aw want to say.  Tha connot be blind, an tha must know at awm fonder on thi nor o’ onnybody i’ all this world.  Tha knows ha bonny tha art, an tha knows tha’s nobbut to put up thi finger an tha can have onny single chap i’th shop, but, believe me, Susy,—­ther isn’t one at can ivver love thi as aw love thi.  Aw’ll work for thi throo morn to neet, an tha shall be th’ happiest woman i’th world if its i’ my paar to mak thi soa.  What says ta?  Aw willn’t hurry thee if tha wants time to think abaat it,—­but tell me,—­is ther onnybody at tha likes better?”

“Why, Dick, tha’s fairly knockt th’ wind aght o’ me.  Tha sewerly forgets at awm a widdy.  A young chap like thee doesn’t owt to be lukkin after widdys, when ther’s soa monny single young lasses abaat waitin for chaps.”

“It’d mak noa difference to me if tha wor a widdy twenty times ovver.  Tha’rt th’ grandest woman aw ivver met, an if aw ivver do wed it’ll be thee.  Come, nah, tell me,—­we havn’t mich time befoor th’ engine starts.  Is ther onnybody tha likes better nor me.  Spaik aght.  If ther is aw’ll bide it as weel as aw can, an aw’ll nivver trubble thi agean.”

“Noa, Dick, ther isn’t.  That’s gospel trewth.  Ther’s nubdy livin at aw like better nor thee, an aw dooant know another aw like as weel, but tha knows when it comes to weddin, it mun be summat moor nor likin th’ next time.  It’ll have to be lovin.  An aw dooant love thee weel enuff, but aw may leearn to do, but tha mun gie me time.”

“Yond’s th’ engine startin, aw mun be off;—­an bless thi for what tha’s sed.  Aw’ll mak misen worthy on thi, an tha shall love me at th’ finish.”

That afternoon Dick seemed to be walking on air.  His face was flushed, and his heart beat until his voice was so unsteady that those who had to speak with him eyed him curiously.  As he passed Susy’s loom she gave him a look so full of love and sympathy that it required an effort to pass on to his other duties.

When the day’s work was ended, he waited, as was his custom, for Jack, though he would much rather have gone home alone.  He felt selfishly happy, and he wanted to nurse his secret where no eye could read his exultation.  It was a something sacred,—­too sacred to be shared even with Jack.

As they walked along, they saw Susy tripping away, some distance in advance.