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"Peter," said the Ancient, after we had gone a little way,

"Peter, I do 'opes as you aren't been an' gone an' rose ain"

"I can but do my best, Ancient"

"Old Un," said Simon, "'tweren't Peter as rose 'er 'opes,

'twere you; Peter never said nowt about bringin' Jarge 'oue, lad; I says

again, if Peter's been an' rose Prue's 'opes only to dash 'em 't

will be a bad day for Prue, you mark et easy"

"Why, true, Gaffer, true, God bless 'er!"

"She be one as 'ud pine--slow an' quiet, like a flower in the

woods, or a leaf in autumn--ah! fade, she would, fade an' fade!"

"Well, she bean't a-goin' to do no fadin', please the Lord!"

"Not if me an' Peter an' you can 'elp it, Simon, my bye--but we

'm but poor worms, arter all, as the Bible says; an' if Peter 'as

been an' rose 'er 'opes o' freein' Jarge, an' don't free Jarge

--if Jarge should 'ave to go a convic' to Austrayley, or--or t'

other place, why then--she'll fade, fade as ever was, an' be laid

in the churchyard afore 'er poor old grandfeyther!"

"Lord, Old Un!" exclaimed Simon, "who's a-talkin' o' fadin's an'