’We thought we should have a good chance of finding you, just after dinner-time,’ said Margaret.

‘We have had our sorrow too, since we saw you,’ said Mr. Hale.

’Ay, ay.  Sorrows is more plentiful than dinners just now; I reckon, my dinner hour stretches all o’er the day; yo’re pretty sure of finding me.’

‘Are you out of work?’ asked Margaret.

‘Ay,’ he replied shortly.  Then, after a moment’s silence, he added, looking up for the first time:  ’I’m not wanting brass.  Dunno yo’ think it.  Bess, poor lass, had a little stock under her pillow, ready to slip into my hand, last moment, and Mary is fustian-cutting.  But I’m out o’ work a’ the same.’

‘We owe Mary some money,’ said Mr. Hale, before Margaret’s sharp pressure on his arm could arrest the words.

‘If hoo takes it, I’ll turn her out o’ doors.  I’ll bide inside these four walls, and she’ll bide out.  That’s a’.’

‘But we owe her many thanks for her kind service,’ began Mr. Hale again.

‘I ne’er thanked yo’r daughter theer for her deeds o’ love to my poor wench.  I ne’er could find th’ words.  I’se have to begin and try now, if yo’ start making an ado about what little Mary could sarve yo’.’

‘Is it because of the strike you’re out of work?’ asked Margaret gently.

‘Strike’s ended.  It’s o’er for this time.  I’m out o’ work because I ne’er asked for it.  And I ne’er asked for it, because good words is scarce, and bad words is plentiful.’

He was in a mood to take a surly pleasure in giving answers that were like riddles.  But Margaret saw that he would like to be asked for the explanation.

‘And good words are—?’

’Asking for work.  I reckon them’s almost the best words that men can say.  “Gi’ me work” means “and I’ll do it like a man.”  Them’s good words.’

‘And bad words are refusing you work when you ask for it.’

’Ay.  Bad words is saying “Aha, my fine chap!  Yo’ve been true to yo’r order, and I’ll be true to mine.  Yo’ did the best yo’ could for them as wanted help; that’s yo’r way of being true to yo’r kind; and I’ll be true to mine.  Yo’ve been a poor fool, as knowed no better nor be a true faithful fool.  So go and be d—­d to yo’.  There’s no work for yo’ here.”  Them’s bad words.  I’m not a fool; and if I was, folk ought to ha’ taught me how to be wise after their fashion.  I could mappen ha’ learnt, if any one had tried to teach me.’

‘Would it not be worth while,’ said Mr. Hale, ’to ask your old master if he would take you back again?  It might be a poor chance, but it would be a chance.’

He looked up again, with a sharp glance at the questioner; and then tittered a low and bitter laugh.

‘Measter! if it’s no offence, I’ll ask yo’ a question or two in my turn.’

‘You’re quite welcome,’ said Mr. Hale.

’I reckon yo’n some way of earning your bread.  Folk seldom lives i’ Milton lust for pleasure, if they can live anywhere else.’