"Aye--by the mother--an' popish, besides."

Mrs. Dixon sighed.

"How far 'ull it be to t' chapel at Scargill Fell?"

"Nine mile. She'll not be for takkin' much notice of her Sunday dooties
I'm thinkin'."

"An' yo' unnerstan' she'll be juist a yoong thing? An't' baby only juist
walkin'."

Dixon nodded. Suddenly there was a sound in the corridor--a girl's laugh,
and a rush of feet. Thomas started slightly, and his wife observed him as
sharply as the dim light permitted.

"Thyrza!" she raised her voice peremptorily. "What are you doing there?"

Another laugh, and the girl from whom it came ran forward into the
lamp-light, threading her way through the packing-cases, and followed by
a small fox-terrier who was jumping round her.

"Doin'? There's nowt more to do as I know on. An' I'm most droppin'."

So saying the girl jumped lightly on one of the larger packing-cases and
sat there, her feet dangling.

Mrs. Dixon looked at her with disapproval, but held her tongue. Thyrza
was not strictly her underling, though she was helping in the housework.
She was the daughter of the small farmer who had been for years the