,
Joe?"

Joe again rolled a deprecatory eye at his crony and cleared his
throat, but did not otherwise commit himself.

"It mun ha' been a fit or soom sich thing," continued Ted, cocking his
hat over his eye and glancing waggishly at Lovelady. "When Joe see it,
says he, 'My word, there'll be a pretty to do! This is Margaret Hep.'s
gander,' says Joe--no, I think he said, 'Miss Heptonstall's gander.'
Didn't thou, Joe? Joe's allus so respectful and civil-spoke,
pertic'larly when it's a lady as he's a-talking about."

Joe grinned and began to look jocular too. His friend's last assertion
pleased him better than the wild flights of a little time before.

"That's it," said Joe. "Ho, ho! Reet!"

"He'd never go for to call ony lady out o' their name," pursued Ted,
placing his hat yet a little more aslant; "never did that in's life.
He's quite a lady's mon, Joe is. Haw! haw!"

"Coom!" said Joe, grinning still more broadly.

At this juncture the invalid gander made a frantic struggle, and,
freeing one wing from Ted's encircling coat, began to flap it wildly.

"Ye've no need to stan' grinnin' an' makkin' merry theer when th' poor
dumb thing's goin' to dee, as like as not," cried Margaret
indignantly. "Hand him over to me this minute--theer, my beauty,
theer--missus'll see to thee."

"Well, an' ye ought to be very thankful to me," asserted Ted; "didn't
I pick him out o' th' road, an' put my own coat o'er him an' fondle
him mich same's if he was a babby? Why, he 'ud noan be wick now if it
hadn't ha' been for me. Theer, my boy, howd up! Theer, we'se tuck in
thy wing for thee, and cover thee up warm an' gradely--'tisn't
everybody as 'ud be dressin' up a gander i' their own clooes. Do you
know what 'ud do this 'ere bird rale good? Just a drop o' sperrits to
warm his in'ards for him--that's what he wants. See here, I'll carry
him awhoam for ye, and ye mun jest fotch him a glass o' whisky, and in
a two three minutes he'll be as merry as a layrock."

Margaret looked doubtfully at him.

"Do ye raly think it 'ud do the poor thing good?" she asked dolefully.

"I'm sure on't," returned Ted, firmly pinioning the gander's
struggling legs, and setting off at a brisk pace towards Margaret's
cottage. "Theer's nought as is wick as wouldn't feel the benefit of a
drop o' sperrits now an' again."

Joe considered this a very proper sentiment, and gave a grunt by way
of endorsing it; he, too, followed Ted and the gander, being as much
a