y on the window-sill;
then Tom and Bob withdrew to assume their Sunday suits in preparation
for the day, while Mrs. Wainwright and her daughters made the bed and
tidied the room. Presently the girls slipped away, and, after pausing
for a moment, hands on hips to make sure that her Gaffer was
coomfortable, Mrs. Wainwright remarked that she'd better be seeing to
things downstairs a bit, for they lasses 'ud be sure to be off arter
the Club as soon as her back was turned.

"If thou wants me, thou'll shout for me, wunnot thou?" she asked,
turning just at the door.

"I'll not want for aught," returned Bob gruffly. "I don't want no
doin' for, I'm out o' th' road up here, an' ye're fain enough, all on
ye'! Thou can be off arter th' Club thysel' if thou's a mind to."

With many protests Mrs. Wainwright withdrew, and her husband, left to
himself, proceeded to relieve his feelings by tossing his pillows over
the back of the chair, and extricating his suffering limb from the
blankets.

"I'm welly smoored," he remarked indignantly, half aloud, "welly
smoored I am. They reckon I'm a babby to be croodled and cossetted
this gate. I'll be that nesh afore they'n done, I'll be fit for nought
when I get about again."

Leaning forward, and supporting himself on one leg, he threw open the
window. The air, fresh and invigorating if keen as a knife, circled
round the room, lifting his thick white hair, and making the prints on
the wall flap and rustle.

"That wakkens me up a bit," cried Bob; "does me good, that does. Our
missus may barge as hoo likes, I'll keep it oppen."

He could hear voices and hurrying feet in the road below; people were
beginning to assemble at the church; by-and-by the whole procession,
headed by the band, would go marching down the street and in at the
park gates to be refreshed and complimented at Thornleigh Hall; then
it would take its way across the fields to Upton, turning the big
banner so that the arms of the Squire of that place would be most _en
evidence_ when they halted for similar entertainment before the door
of _his_ mansion. Thence, through Upton village along the lane to the
Thornleigh Arms; then the dinner--mirth and jollity lasting till
evening. Old Bob, with knotted hands clasping the wooden arms of his
high-backed chair, saw it all in fancy, his memory conjuring up each
detail of the well-known scenes. He could see the grassy fields and
the hedges white with bloom; he could smell the fragranc