spouse
cheerily. "Happen th' gout 'ull mak' an end on poor owd Robert first,
though."

Martin looked at her with a startled air. "Happen it will," he
assented doubtfully; "ah, it 'ud ha' been a fine thing if I could ha'
stolen a march on th' owd lad this time! I never got the chance
before, but theer he lays yon, fast by the leg! If I could ha' made
shift to walk this year he could never ha' cotched me up--eh, I'd ha'
had a gradely laugh at him."

"Well, well, ye'll happen ha' th' best on't another time," said Mrs.
Tyrer soothingly. "Happen he'll noan be able to walk no more next year
nor this--happen he'll noan be here! Dunnot thou go frettin' thysel'
this road; nobry knows what's goin' to come about i' this world."

Martin's eyes travelled slowly from the ceiling to her face with a
puzzled, discontented gaze.

"If th' owd lad dees afore next year it 'ull spile
everything--'twouldn't be no satisfaction to walk oftener nor him if
he were dead."

"Well, dunnot thou go frettin' thysel' as how 'tis," repeated his
missus with a vague attempt at consolation.

Meanwhile old Wainwright had somewhat calmed down since his wife had
imparted to him the welcome tidings that his rival had unwillingly
"paired" with him for the morrow's festivities. He ceased roaring at
his sons and daughters and throwing his bandages at his wife's head;
it must be stated that he never employed any more dangerous missile
even in moments of supreme irritation. Robert Wainwright's bark was on
all occasions worse than his bite, and though recently his bark had
been very loud indeed, no one in the little household was in the least
scared by it. This evening, however, "our Tom" and "our Bob," who had
of late satisfied themselves with screwing their bullet heads and a
small portion of their persons round the angle of the door, walked
boldly in, and cheerfully inquired how feyther felt hissel'; while
"our Annie" and "our Polly" actually helped their mother to
"straighten" the bed, and ventured to draw the sheet lightly over
feyther's afflicted toe. The Gaffer, moreover, consented to swallow a
basin of gruel with just a dash of spirits in it to take away the
sickliness of it. Doctor Craddock had forbidden all stimulants, but,
as Mrs. Wainwright remarked, "a little taste like that, just to make
the gruel slip down, couldn't coom amiss." It certainly did not seem
to come amiss to Robert, who grew quite jovial as he scraped the
basin, and commiserated