time; six-eight chaws I, willynilly. Band plays common; common time went
my teeth among the liver and lights as true as a hair. Beautiful 'twere!
Ah, I shall never forget that there band!"

"That's as tuneful a thing as ever I heard of," said grandfather James,
with the absent gaze which accompanies profound criticism.

"I don't like Michael's tuneful stories then," said Mrs. Dewy. "They are
quite coarse to a person o' decent taste."

Old Michael's mouth twitched here and there, as if he wanted to smile but
didn't know where to begin, which gradually settled to an expression that
it was not displeasing for a nice woman like the tranter's wife to
correct him.

"Well, now," said Reuben, with decisive earnestness, "that sort o' coarse
touch that's so upsetting to Ann's feelings is to my mind a
recommendation; for it do always prove a story to be true. And for the
same reason, I like a story with a bad moral. My sonnies, all true
stories have a coarse touch or a bad moral, depend upon't. If the story-
tellers could ha' got decency and good morals from true stories, who'd
ha' troubled to invent parables?" Saying this the tranter arose to fetch
a new stock of cider, ale, mead, and home-made wines.

Mrs. Dewy sighed, and appended a remark (ostensibly behind her husband's
back, though that the words should reach his ears distinctly was
understood by both): "Such a man as Dewy is! Nobody do know the trouble
I have to keep that man barely respectable. And did you ever hear
too--just now at supper-time--talking about 'taties' with Michael in such
a work-folk way. Well, 'tis what I was never brought up to! With our