Abijah had been taken into Captain Sankey's counsels, and as soon
as the fever had abated, and the doctor pronounced that the most
nourishing food was now requisite, she set to work to prepare
the strongest broths and jellies she could make, and these, with
bottles of port wine, were taken by her every evening to the doctor,
who carried them up in his gig on his visits to his patient in the
morning. On the third Saturday the doctor told Ned that he considered
that the boy had fairly turned the corner and was on the road
to recovery, and that he might now go up and see him. His friends
had expressed their warm gratitude for the supplies which had been
sent up, and clearly cherished no animosity against Ned. The boy
had been informed of the extreme anxiety of his young antagonist
as to his condition, and had nodded feebly when asked if he would
see Ned should he call upon him. It was therefore without any
feeling of trepidation as to his reception that Ned on the Saturday
afternoon entered Varley.

Varley was a scattered village lying at the very edge of the moor.
The houses were built just where the valley began to dip down from
the uplands, the depression being deep enough to shelter them from
the winds which swept across the moor. Some of those which stood
lowest were surrounded by a few stumpy fruit trees in the gardens,
but the majority stood bleak and bare. From most of the houses the
sound of the shuttle told that hand weaving was carried on within,
and when the weather was warm women sat at the doors with their
spinning wheels. The younger men for the most part worked as croppers
in the factories in Marsden.

In good times Varley had been a flourishing village, that is to say
its inhabitants had earned good wages; but no one passing through