"What I told you."

"Tut, what's it to thee?"

"Ay, but it _is_ something to me, say I."

"Tush, thou'rt yan of the wise asses."

"If these constables," lurching his head, "if they come back, as they
say, to take Ralph, I'll have no hand in't."

"And why did ye help them this turn?" said Mrs. Garth, with an
elevation of her heavy eyebrows.

"Because I knew nowt of what they were after. If I'd but known that it
were for--for--_him_--"

"Hod thy tongue. Thou wad mak a priest sweer," said Mrs. Garth. The
words rolled within her teeth.

"_I_ heard what they said of the warrant, mother," said Joe; "it were
the same warrant, I reckon, as old Mattha's always preaching aboot,
and it's missing, and it seems to me that they want to make out as
Ray--as Ralph--"

"Wilt ye _never_ hod yer bletheren tongue?" said Mrs. Garth in a husky
whisper. Then in a mollified temper she added,--

"An what an they do, laddie; what an they do? Did ye not hear yersel
that it were yan o' the Rays--yan o' them; and what's the odds
which--what's the odds, I say--father and son, they were both of a
swatch."

At this moment there came from the inner room some slight noise of
motion, and the old woman lifted her finger to her lip.

"And who knows it were _not_ yan on 'em--who?" added Mrs. Garth, after
a moment's silence.

"Nay, mother," said Joe, and his gruff voice was husky in his
throat,--"nay, mother, but there _is_ them that knows."

The woman gave a short forced titter.

"Ye wad mak a swine laugh, ye wad," she said.

Then, coming closer to where her son now stood with a "lash" comb in
his hand before a scratched and faded mirror, she said under her
breath,--

"There'll be no rest for _him_ till summat's done, none; tak my word
for that. But yance they hang some riff-raff for him it will soon be
forgotten. Then all will be as dead as hissel', back and end. What's
it to thee, man, who they tak for't? Nowt, _Theer's nea sel' like awn
sel', Joey_."

Mrs. Garth emphasized her sentiment with a gentle prod of her son's
breast.

"That's what you told me long ago," said the blacksmith, "when you set
me to work to help hang the tailor. I cannot bear the sight of him, I
cannot."

Mrs. Garth took her son roughly by the shoulder.

"Ye'd best git off and see to t' horse and car. Stand blubbering here
and ye'll gang na farther in two days nor yan."

There was a step on the road in front.

"Who's that gone by?" asked Mrs. Garth.