his curls wur the color o' a brown bee's back. Happen we set
too much store by him, or happen it wur on'y th' Teacher again teachin'
us his way, but hows'ever that wur, I came home one sunny mornin' fro'
th' factory, an' my dear lass met me at th' door, all white an' cold,
but tryin' hard to be brave an' help me to bear what she had to tell.

"'Tim,' said she, 'th' Lord ha' sent us a trouble; but we can bear it
together, conna we, dear lad?'

"That wur aw, but I knew what it meant, though th' poor little lamb had
been well enough when I kissed him last.

"I went in an' saw him lyin' theer on his pillows strugglin' an' gaspin'
in hard convulsions, an' I seed aw was over. An' in half an hour, just
as th' sun crept across th' room an' touched his curls th' pretty little
chap opens his eyes aw at once.

"'Daddy!' he crows out. 'Sithee Dad--! an' he lift' hissen up, catches
at th' floatin' sun shine, laughs at it, and fa's back--dead, Mester.

"I've allus thowt 'at th' Lord-a'-moighty knew what He wur doin' when he
gi' th' woman t' Adam i' th' Garden o' Eden. He knowed he wur nowt but
a poor chap as couldna do fur hissen; an' I suppose that's th' reason he
gi' th' woman th' strength to bear trouble when it comn. I'd ha' gi'en
clean in if it hadna been fur my lass when th' little chap deed. I never
tackledt owt i' aw my days 'at hurt me as heavy as losin' him did. I
couldna abear th' sight o' his cradle, an' if ever I comn across any o'
his bits o' playthings, I'd fa' to cryin' an' shakin' like a babby. I
kept out o' th' way o' th' neebors' children even. I wasna like Rosanna.
I couldna see quoite clear what th' Lord meant, an' I couldna help
murmuring sad and heavy. That's just loike us men, Mester; just as if
th' dear wench as had give him her life fur food day an' neet, hadna fur
th' best reet o' th' two to be weak an' heavy-hearted.

"But I getten welly over it at last, an' we was beginnin' to come round
a bit an' look forrard to th' toime we'd see him agen 'stead o' luokin'
back to th' toime we shut th' round bit of a face under th' coffin-lid.
Th' day comn when we could bear to talk about him an' moind things he'd
said an' tried to say i' his broken babby way. An' so we wur creepin'
back again to th' old happy quiet, an' we had been for welly six month,
when summat fresh come. I'll never forget it, Mester, th' neet it
happened. I'd kissed Rosanna at th' door an' left her standin' theer
when I went up to th' villag