gh as he were out o' the road!"

Meanwhile Robert himself certainly did not say much, as the neighbours
observed; in fact, he said nothing at all. When his friends came and
stared at him after the manner of their kind, and made remarks to each
other or to Mrs. Wainwright about how strange it was that he should be
that taken to about Martin Tyrer--though some of them added,
sympathetically, that he _would_ be like to miss him, he _would_, when
all was said and done; him and Martin had walked together such a many
years--"rale cronies ye know for all their fallin's out"--Robert would
stare at them and heave a deep sigh; occasionally he would take his
pipe out of his mouth as though about to make a remark, but invariably
put it in again without uttering a syllable. Then his friends would go
away, shaking their heads and sighing, after pausing to impart to Mrs.
Wainwright their conviction that her Gaffer was failing.

When the day of Martin's funeral came Robert was, with the assistance
of his wife and daughters, attired in his best "blacks"; he himself
saw to his foot-gear, having possessed himself of a pair of shears
with which he cut a large piece out of the top of one boot. Mrs.
Wainwright had been tearful enough with sentimental foreboding all the
morning, and, when she saw the irreparable damage wrought by Feyther's
ruthless hands, she began to cry in good earnest.

"I knowed as summat was boun' to happen," she groaned; "dear o' me,
seventeen-an'-six, no less--an' the soles scarce soiled! Eh,
Gaffer!--it's downright flyin' i' th' face o' Providence to be so
wasteful."

Gaffer, meanwhile, purple in the face with suppressed anguish, had
forced his foot into the mutilated boot, and now silently and
frowningly pointed to his hat.

The Wainwrights started early, for, though many neighbours had offered
to give Bob a lift, the old man had insisted on walking all the way.
It was a very painful pilgrimage, but he set his teeth and leaned hard
on his stick, and hobbled along dauntlessly, though every now and then
his injured foot would give a twinge which made him snarl to himself
and stagger.

They arrived just as the mourning procession was setting forth from
the widow's door. Bob had counted upon being refreshed by a short rest
and a glass of "summat"; but there was no time for that now, so he
merely wiped his face, drew a deep breath, and fell into line. The
Upton folk were surprised and gratified by his presence; man