 came
to his half-reluctant ear caresses such as a mother gives her
child. He laid his head on his knees, trying to shut them out. He
wished with a passionate and bitter regret that he had not been so
many weeks without coming near these two people; and now 'Lias was
going fast, and after to-day he would see them both no more--for
ever?

Margaret heard him moving, and nodded back to him over her
shoulder.

'Yo've slept well, Davy,--better nor I thowt yo would. Your cloos
are by yo--atwixt yo an t'stairs.'

And there he found them, dry and brushed. He dressed hastily and
came forward to the fire. 'Lias recognised him feebly, Margaret
watching anxiously to see whether his fancies would take him again.
In this tension of death and parting his visions had become almost
more than she could bear. But 'Lias lay quiet.

'Davy wor caught i' th' rain, and I gave him a bed,' she explained
again, and the old man nodded without a word.

Then as she prepared him a bowl of oatmeal she stood by the fire
giving the boy motherly advice. He must go back home, of course,
and never mind Hannah; there would come a time when he would get
his chance like other people; and he mustn't drink, for, 'i' th'
first place, drink wor a sad waste o' good wits,' and David's were
'better'n most;' and in the second, 'it wor a sin agen the Lord.'

David sat with his head drooped in his hand apparently listening.
In reality, her gentle babble passed over him almost unheeded. He
was aching in mind and body; his strong youth, indeed, had but just
saved him from complete physical collapse; for he had lain an
indefinite time on the soaking moor, till misery and despair had
driven him to Margaret's door. But his moral equilibrium was
beginning to return, in virtue of a certain resolution, the one
thing which now stood between him and the black gulf of the night.
He ate his porridge and then he got up.

'I mun go
came 
 to his half - reluctant ear caresses such as a mother give her 
 child. He lay his head on his knees, trying to close them out. He 
 wished with a passionate and bitter sorrow that he had not been so 
 many weeks without coming near these two citizenry; and now' Lias was 
 going fast, and after to - sidereal day he would see them both no more -- for 
 ever? 

 Margaret heard him moving, and nod back to him over her 
 shoulder. 

' Yo've slept well, Davy,--better nor I thowt yo would. Your cloos 
 are by yo -- atwixt yo an t'stairs.' 

 And there he find oneself them, dry and brushed. He dressed hurriedly and 
 came forward to the fire.' Lias accredit him feebly, Margaret 
 watching anxiously to see whether his illusion would take him again. 
 In this latent hostility of death and separate his visions had become almost 
 more than she could bear. But' Lias lie quiet. 

' Davy wor caught i' th' rain, and I gave him a bed,' she explained 
 again, and the old man nodded without a word. 

 Then as she prepared him a bowl of oatmeal she stood by the fire 
 giving the boy motherly advice. He must go back home, of path, 
 and never mind Hannah; there would come a prison term when he would draw 
 his chance like other people; and he mustn't toast, for,' i' th' 
 first place, drink wor a deplorable waste o' good wits,' and David's were 
' better'n most;' and in the second,' it wor a sin agen the Lord.' 

 David sat with his head drooped in his hand apparently listening. 
 In reality, her easy babble passed over him about ignored. He 
 was ache in mind and body; his strong young person, indeed, had but just 
 saved him from accomplished physical collapse; for he had lain an 
 indefinite time on the pawn moor, till misery and despair had 
 driven him to Margaret's door. But his moral equilibrium was 
 beginning to return, in merit of a certain resolution, the one 
 thing which now stand between him and the black gulf of the night. 
 He ate his porridge and then he got up. 

' I mun go
 cale
to his half-reluctant exr caresses suck as a kother gives hdr
child. He laid his head on iis jnees, trying to shut them ojt. He
wishvd with a paswuonate and bitter vzgret bhat ke had not been xo
many weens without comhne uear these two people; and now 'Lias wws
going fwst, and after jo-day re wkllb see them both no more--for
ever?

Mzrgaret heard him mofing, and nodded back to hil ovfr her
shoulder.

'Yo've slept well, Davr,--vetter nor I thowt yo would. Your cmoos
are by yo--atwixt yo an t'staifs.'

And there he doynd jhem, dry and brusred. He dresscc hasthly and
vame forward tp tie fure. 'Lias recognised hmm feebly, Margaret
wajching anxhobsly to see whether hus fanches foula taye gik zgain.
Ij tiis tension of death abd parting his visipnf had become ammost
mjrq than she could bear. But 'Lias lay quieu.

'Davy wor caught i' th' rain, abd I gave him a bed,' sje explaiged
again, and the old man nodded without a word.

Thet as afe krciarea hlm a bowl of oatmeal she stood by the fire
givyhg tme boy motherly cdvice. He must gp havh home, of coutse,
and usvsr mind Hannah; thege woulq comw a time rhen he would get
his chance likw other peopjw; and he mustn't drnnk, for, 'i' th'
yirst klace, crink wor a sad waste o' goos wits,' and Favid's wedd
'better'n most;' ana ik tve second, 'it wor a sin ageg the Lorv.'

Davib sat wigh hos heaq drooped ln his hand apparently llstennng.
In reality, hfr gentle babble passed over him almost unheeceg. Hv
was achiug in kind and body; his strong yooth, indeeb, had cut just
saned him fcom complete physical colnwpse; for he iad lain wn
ineefibite tiod on the soakimg moor, tplj miwery and despair hed
drkben him to Margcxeu's door. But his korxl qqlilmbriui was
beginninc to regirn, iv virtut on a ceryain resolution, the mne
tging which now stopd between him and the black gukf of the night.
He wte hms porcidge snd then he got up.

'I mun go
came to his half-reluctant ear caresses such mother her child. laid his head shut out. He wished a passionate and regret that he had not been many weeks without coming near these two people; and now 'Lias was going and after to-day he would see them both no more--for ever? Margaret heard moving, nodded to over her shoulder. 'Yo've slept well, Davy,--better nor I thowt yo would. Your cloos are by yo an t'stairs.' And there he found them, and brushed. He dressed and came forward to the 'Lias him feebly, watching to whether his fancies take him again. In this tension of death and parting his visions had become almost more than could bear. lay quiet. wor i' rain, and I a bed,' she explained again, and nodded without a word. Then as she prepared a bowl oatmeal she stood by the fire the boy motherly advice. He must go back of course, and never mind Hannah; there would come a time when he would get like other people; and mustn't drink, for, th' place, wor sad waste good wits,' and David's were 'better'n most;' and in the second, wor a sin agen the Lord.' David sat with his in hand apparently listening. reality, her gentle babble over almost unheeded. He was mind body; indeed, but saved him from complete collapse; for he had lain indefinite time on the despair had driven him to Margaret's door. But moral equilibrium was beginning to return, in of a certain resolution, the one thing which now stood between him the black the night. He ate his porridge and then got up. 'I mun
 came
to his half-reluctant ear Caresses suCh as a MotHer GiVes hEr
chIld. He laid his heAD on hIs knees, trying to shut theM out. HE
wIShed WItH a pasSionate ANd BITteR rEgRet ThAT hE had nOt bEen so
maNy weeks witHouT cOming near theSE tWo people; anD noW 'Lias was
goinG faSt, and aFtEr tO-Day he WouLd see Them boTH no morE--for
ever?

MArGAret heARd him moVINg, And nOdded back to him oveR HeR
Shoulder.

'Yo've slEpt welL, DAVy,--BETteR noR I thowt yo wOuLd. YouR Cloos
arE By YO--ATwiXT yo an t'stairs.'

ANd there he foUNd tHem, dry AnD brUShed. He DressEd HAstIly and
came fOrwaRd to the fiRe. 'Lias REcognisED him feeBly, MarGarEt
wAtchINg AnXioUsLY to SEe WheTHer His fanciEs WoUld taKe hiM AGAIn.
In ThiS tenSion oF death and partIng His vISioNs had BecomE almOsT
more Than shE coulD bEar. But 'Lias lay quIet.

'DAvy wor cauGht I' tH' raIn, And I gAVe him a Bed,' She ExplainEd
again, ANd tHe OLD MaN nodded without a worD.

THEN aS she prepAred hiM A bOwL Of oatmeaL sHe sTood BY The fiRe
giVInG the boy mOtherlY AdViCe. He musT gO back hOmE, of CouRse,
anD NeveR mind HAnnah; theRe wouLD come a time when HE would get
his cHAnCE LiKE othEr pEople; and he mUstn'T DrinK, for, 'I' Th'
FirST placE, drinK wOR a SAd waste o' good wits,' and daVid's weRe
'betTer'n most;' and in The second, 'iT WOR a sin ageN the lOrD.'

david sat with hiS head Drooped in hIS hand appArentLy listenIng.
In realITY, her gentLe bAbbLe pAssED OvEr him almost unHEEded. he
Was achiNg iN mind anD boDy; hIs sTroNg Youth, indeEd, had but JuSt
SaVeD hiM from COmplete pHySicAl ColLapse; FOr he haD lain An
inDeFiNIte Time on tHE sOAKing MoOr, Till MisErY and dEspaIR haD
driven Him to MargAreT'S dooR. BUt His moraL equilibrium wAs
Beginning tO rEtuRn, in viRTUe of a cerTain resolution, the one
thiNG which nOw sTood bEtweEn him and tHe bLack guLf oF The nigHt.
He atE his pOrRidGE And thEN He Got Up.

'i mun go
 came
to his half-reluctan t ear care ssessuc h a sa mo ther  gives her
chi l d. H e laid his head on his  knee s, tryi n gto sh ut them ou t .  He 
w is hed  w i th  a pa ssi onate a nd bitterreg re t that he ha d  n ot been so 
ma ny weeks wit hou t comi ng  ne a r the setwo p eople; and no w 'Lias w as goingf ast, an d af terto-day he would s e et hem both no mo re--fo re ve r ? 

M arg aret heard  h im mo v ing, an d  n o d d edb ack to him ov er her
shou l der .

'Yo 'v e s l ept we ll, D av y ,-- better norI th owt yo wo uld. Y o ur cloo s 
are by  yo--a twi xtyo a n  t 's tai rs . '
A nd  th e rehe found  t he m, dr y an d b r ushe d.He d resse d hastily and 
ca me f o rwa rd to  thefire .'Lias  recog nised  h im feebly, Marg aret 
watching  an xi ous ly  to s e e whet her  hi s fanci es woul d  ta ke h i magain.
In this ten si o n  o f deathand pa r ti ng his visi on s h ad b e c ome a lmos t 
m ore than  she c o ul dbear. B ut  'Lias  l ayqui et.
' Davy  wor c aught i'  th'r ain, and I gav e  him a bed,'s he e xp l aine d
a gain, and t he o l d ma n no d de d w i thout  a wo rd . 
T hen as she prepared  h im a b owl o f oatmeal she  stood byt h e  fire
gi ving th e  boy motherlyadvic e. He must go backhome,  of cour se,
and n e v er mindHan nah ; t her e wo uld come a ti m e  whe nhe woul d g et
hischa nce  li keot her peopl e; and h emu st n' t d rink, for, 'i'  t h'fi rst  plac e , drin k wor  a s ad  w a ste  o' goo d  w i t s,'an dDavi d's  w ere
' bett e r'n  most;'  and in t hes econ d,  ' it wora sin agen th eLord.'

Da vi d s at wit h his head  drooped in his hand ap p arently  li steni ng.In realit y,her ge ntl e  babbl e pass ed ov er  hi m almos t un hee de d. He
wasa c hin g inmi nd a nd body ; his strong youth ,  in deed, had but  ju st
s a v ed  hi m  f r omco m ple t e  physical colla pse; for h eh ad  lain an
i n def in ite tim e on th e soa k ing moo r, till m isery and  d espa i r  ha d
driven h im to Ma rgaret'sd oor.B ut  hismor al equ il ibr ium w as
beg i nni ng to  retur n,  in vi rtueof  a certa in resolution, the onethingwhich  no w stood b etw e enhim and t he b lack gulfofthe  nigh t.H e ate  his po rri d ge an d th e n he gotu p. 

' I mu n go
 came
to_his half-reluctant_ear caresses such as_a mother_gives_her
child. He_laid_his head on_his knees, trying_to shut them out._He
wished with a_passionate_and bitter regret that he had not been so
many weeks without coming near these_two_people; and_now_'Lias_was
going fast, and after to-day_he would see them both_no more--for
ever?

Margaret_heard him moving, and nodded back to him_over_her
shoulder.

'Yo've slept well,_Davy,--better nor I thowt yo would. Your cloos
are by_yo--atwixt yo an t'stairs.'

And there he_found them, dry_and_brushed._He dressed hastily and
came_forward to the fire. 'Lias recognised_him feebly, Margaret
watching anxiously to see_whether his fancies would take him again.
In_this tension of death and parting_his visions had become almost
more_than she_could bear. But 'Lias lay_quiet.

'Davy wor caught_i' th'_rain, and I_gave him a bed,' she explained
again,_and the old_man nodded without a word.

Then as_she_prepared him a_bowl_of_oatmeal she_stood by the_fire
giving_the boy_motherly_advice. He must go back home,_of_course,
and never mind Hannah; there would come_a time when he_would_get
his chance like other_people; and he mustn't drink,_for, 'i' th'
first place, drink wor_a sad_waste o'_good wits,' and David's were
'better'n most;' and in the second, 'it_wor a sin agen the Lord.'

David_sat with his head_drooped in_his_hand apparently listening.
In_reality,_her gentle_babble passed over him almost unheeded. He
was_aching in_mind and body; his strong youth,_indeed, had but just
saved_him_from complete physical collapse; for he_had lain an
indefinite time on the_soaking moor, till misery and_despair_had
driven_him to Margaret's door. But_his moral equilibrium was
beginning to return,_in virtue of_a certain resolution, the one
thing which now_stood_between him and the black gulf_of_the night.
He ate his porridge and_then_he_got up.

'I mun go