ot know.

Martha laughed as she had done the first morning.

"There now," she said. "I've talked broad Yorkshire again like Mrs.
Medlock said I mustn't. 'Nowt o' th' soart' means
'nothin'-of-the-sort,'" slowly and carefully, "but it takes so long to
say it. Yorkshire's th' sunniest place on earth when it is sunny. I
told thee tha'd like th' moor after a bit. Just you wait till you see
th' gold-colored gorse blossoms an' th' blossoms o' th' broom, an' th'
heather flowerin', all purple bells, an' hundreds o' butterflies
flutterin' an' bees hummin' an' skylarks soarin' up an' singin'. You'll
want to get out on it as sunrise an' live out on it all day like Dickon
does." "Could I ever get there?" asked Mary wistfully, looking through
her window at the far-off blue. It was so new and big and wonderful
and such a heavenly color.

"I don't know," answered Martha. "Tha's never used tha' legs since
tha' was born, it seems to me. Tha' couldn't walk five mile. It's
five mile to our cottage."

"I should like to see your cottage."

Martha stared at her a moment curiously before she took up her
polishing brush and began to rub the grate again. She was thinking
that the small plain face did not look quite as sour at this moment as
it had done the first morning she saw it. It looked just a trifle like
little Susan Ann's when she wanted something very much.

"I'll ask my mother about it," she said. "She's one o' them that
nearly always sees a way to do things. It's my day out today an' I'm
goin' home. Eh! I am glad. Mrs. Medlock thinks a lot o' mother.
Perhaps she could talk to her."

"I like your mother," said Mary.

"I should think tha' did," agreed Martha, polishing away.

"I've never seen her," said Mary.

"No, tha' hasn't," replied Martha.

She sat up on her heels again and rubbed the end of her nose with the
back of her hand as if puzzled for a moment, but she ended quite
positively.

"Well, she's that sensible an' hard workin' an' goodnatured an' clean
that no one could help likin' her whether they'd seen her or not. When
I'm goin' home to her on my day out I just jump for joy when I'm
crossin' the moor."

"I like Dickon," added Mary. "And I've never seen him."

"Well," said Martha stoutly, "I've told thee that th' very birds likes
him an' th' rabbits an' wild sheep an' ponies, an' th' foxes
themselves. I wonder," staring at her reflectively, "what Dickon would
think of thee?"

"He wouldn't li