ll the faster

'I'll tell yo' what it is, owd lass. I shornd hev to leave yo'
agen,' and his arm stole round the little neck, and he drew the
sorrowful face to his own, and kissed it. 'But tell yor owd mon
what's up wi yo'.'

'Ne'er mind naa, Matt; I'll--tell--thee--sometime,' sobbed the
wife.

'But I mun know naa, lass, or there'll be th' hangments to play.
I'll be bun those hens o' Whittam's hes been rootin' up thi flaars
in th' garden. By gum! if they hev, I'll oather neck 'em, or mak'
him pay for th' lumber (mischief).'

'Nowe, lad--thaa'rt--mista'en--Whittam's hens hesn't bin i' th'
garden sin' thaa towd him abaat 'em last.'

'Then mi mother's bin botherin' thee agen,' said Matt, in a sharp
tone, as though he had at last hit upon the secret of his wife's
sorrow.

'Wrang once more,' replied Miriam, with a light in her eye; and
then, looking up at her husband with a gleam, she said: 'I durnd
think as thi mother'll bother me mich more, lad.'

'Surely th' old lass isn't deead!' he cried in startled tones. And
then, recollecting her treatment of Miriam, he continued: 'But I
needn't be afeard o' that, for thaa'll never cry when th' old girl
geets to heaven. Will yo', mi bonnie un?'

'Shame on thee, Matt,' said Miriam, smiling through her tears.

'Bless thee for that smile, lass. Thaa looks more thisel naa.
There's naught like sunleet when it's in a woman's face.'

'Thaa means eyeleet,' Miriam replied, with a gleam of returning
mirth.

'Ony kind o' leet, so long as it's love-leet and joy-leet, and i'
thi face, an o'. But thaa's noan towd me what made thee so feeard
(timid) when aw met thee.'

By this time Matt and his wife were on the threshold of their
cottage, and the woman's heart beat loudly as she felt the moment
of her great confession was at hand.

'Naa, come, Merry' (he always called her Merry in the higher
moments of their domestic life)--'come, Merry, no secrets, thaa
knows. There's naught ever come atween thee and me, and if I can
help, naught ever shall.'

Miriam started, and once more wondered if the little life of which
Matt as yet knew nothing would come in between herself and him,
and divide them; or whether it would bind more closely their
already sacred union.

'Naa, Merry,' continued he, seating himself in the rocking-chair,
or 'courtin'-cheer,' as he called it, and drawing his blushing,
yielding wife gently on his knee, 'naa, Merry, whod is it?'

'Cornd ta guess?' asked she, hid