bed which Captain Sankey had sent up. Ned would not have known him
again, and could scarce believe that the thin, feeble figure was
the sturdy, strong built boy with whom he had struggled on the
moor. His eyes filled with tears as he went up to the bedside.

"I am so sorry!" he said; "I have grieved so all the time you have
been ill."

"It's all roight, young un," the boy said in a low voice, "thar's
no call vor to fret. It warn't thy fault; thou couldn't not tell
why oi would not let ee pass, and ye were roight enough to foight
rather than to toorn back. I doan't blame ee nohow, and thou stoodst
up well agin me. Oi doan't bear no malice vor a fair foight, not
loikely. Thy feyther has been roight good to oi, and the things he
sends oi up has done oi a power o' good. Oi hoap as how they will
let oi eat afore long; oi feels as if oi could hearty, but the
doctor he woin't let oi."

"I hope in a few days he will let you," Ned said, "and then I am
sure father will send you up some nice things. I have brought you
up some of my books for you to look at the pictures."

The boy looked pleased.

"Oi shall like that," Bill said; "but oi shan't know what they be
about."

"But I will come up every Saturday if you will let me, and tell
you the stories all about them."