e ground beside his
chair.

Coming upon it presently, the matron decided to return it herself to
the owner; perhaps she was a little curious to see how he comported
himself among his mates.

She opened the door of the old men's ward so quietly that no one
noticed her entrance; the room was full of tobacco smoke, and the
inmates were sitting or standing about as usual. Giles sat in his old
corner, with Jim opposite to him; both had removed their coats, and
the grizzled heads were bent together over the battered cards.

"You be in luck, Jim," Giles exclaimed as the matron closed the door.
"You've turned up a Jack!"

"THE WOLD LOVE AND THE NOO"

"Have ye heard the noos?" said Betty Tuffin, thrusting in her head at
old Mrs. Haskell's open door.

"Lard, no, my dear," returned her crony, hastily dropping the crooked
iron bar with which she had been drawing together the logs upon her
hearthstone. "There, I never do seem to hear anything nowadays, my
wold man bein' so ter'ble punished wi' the lumbaguey and not able to
do a hand's turn for hisself. Why, I do assure 'ee I do scarce ever
set foot out o' door wi'out it's to pick up a bit o' scroff, or a few
logs--an' poor ones they be when I've a-got 'em. I can hardly see my
own hand for the smoke. Step in, do, Betty love, an' tell I all what's
to be told."

Betty had stepped in long before Mrs. Haskell had concluded her
harangue, and had, by this time, taken possession of a comfortable
corner of the screened settle, deposited her basket by her side,
folded her arms, and assumed that air of virtuous indignation which
denoted that she was about to relate the shortcomings of some third
party.

"Dear, to be sure! Souls alive! Lard ha' mercy me, ye could ha'
knocked I down wi' a feather when Keeper told I--"

"A-h-h-h, them bwoys o' Chaffey's has been poachin' again I d' 'low,"
interrupted Mrs. Haskell eagerly. "Never did see sich chaps as they be.
A body 'ud think they'd know better nor to act so unrespectable-like.
Why, as my wold man do say sometimes, 'ye mid as well put your hand in
Squire's pocket as go a-layin' snares for his hares an' rabbits--'tis
thievin' whichever way ye do look at it,' he do say."

"Well, I don't agree wi' he," responded Betty with some heat. She had
sons of her own who were occasionally given to strolling abroad on
moonlight nights, and usually returned with bulging pockets. "I don't
agree at all. The Lard made they little wild things