trouble came into his face, and his wrinkled hands lying on his
stick began to twitch nervously.

'Aye--theer's a Manchester man been cramming Wigsons wi tales--says
he gets 'em out of a book--'bout a woman 'at walks t' Scout Easter
Eve neet,--an a lot o' ninny-hommer's talk. Yo niver heer now about
it--did yo, 'Lias?'

'Yes, yo did, Mr. Dawson--now, didn't yo?' said Louis,
persuasively, enraged that David would never accept information
from her, while she was always expected to take it from him.

'A woman--'at walks t' Scout,' said 'Lias, uncertainly, flushing as
he spoke.

Then, looking tremulously from his companions to the pool, he said,
angrily raising his stick and shaking it at David, 'Davy, yo're
takin advantage--Davy, yo're doin what yo owt not. If my Margret
were here, she'd let yo know!'

The words rose into a cry of quavering passion. The children stared
at him in amazement. But as Davy, aggrieved, was defending himself,
the old man laid a violent hand on his arm and silenced him. His
eyes, which were black and keen still in the blanched face, were
riveted on the gleaming pool. His features worked as though under
the stress of some possessing force; a shiver ran through the
emaciated limbs.

'Oh! yo want to know abeawt Jenny Crum's pool, do yo?' he said at
last in a low agitated voice. 'Nobbut look, my lad!--nobbut look!