'I do, Mouldom, and I am very glad to hear it. You have been very steady lately and I hope it will last.'

'Well, sir, if yo' would be so kind as to let me have five pound and let me pay yo' back ten bob a week it 'ould help me above a bit. We've spent a' we saved on furnisher. It runs away wi' a lot o' brass, to be sure.'

'It does, Mouldom, I know. Call in the office to-night, and you shall have the money. Have you got all the furniture?'

'Now, sir, we couldna afford mich at present. We ha' to goo without sofy and clock and things o' that soort fer the present.'

When Zike went to the office in the evening there was not only the money but a clock and several pictures. Here's a wedding-present for you, Zike,' said the manager, 'from my wife and myself.'

Zike's look repaid Mr. Shindon. 'Thank yo', sir, thank yo' heartily. Eh! bur Kate'll be pleased wi' these, sir; rare and pleased. Thank yo', sir, thank yo'.'

On the Friday Kate left Owd Williams' for ever, and went to live in the cottage alone. The next day they had another journey to Manchester and Zike was more than satisfied with the gown and hat.

6

6

Eh! bur it's a pictur,' he said to the shop-girls, a fair pictur. Yo've made a rare good job o' it. By Gum! Kate, tha looks too grand fer me, without mi new cloöthes meks a gentleman o' me. Aw'm weel satisfied, ladies; very weel satisfied.'

6

Again there were doorstep meetings in Cudnow, and a demonstration was organised for the wedding-day to mark the sense of the village against the marriage of Workus Brats and Sich.' But they were disappointed. Zike would give no one a hint as to the date or hour of the ceremony, and the most pointed inquiries were met with the answer 'Summat afore the end of th'year, Aw expect.'

They were married at eight o'clock on the Monday morning, a female acquaintance of Kate's and her young man being present only. They walked straight from the church to Mosstop railway station, en route for Liverpool.

They had chosen Liverpool for the honeymoon because Zike had a great passion for the sea. He had only seen it once, having been on a day trip when a boy, and Kate had not yet looked upon it.

"Eh, lass,' Zike told her many times during their engagement, 'Aw should ha' liked to ha' bin a sailor. It mun be a grand life, allus on th'say.'

'Bur how about th'terrible storms, lad, as Aw've read on? How would't like them?'

Fust-rate, Aw should reckon. Eh, lass, th'say's grand at times. Tha mayna think so at fust, bur tha will after a bit.'

They put up at a coffee-house close to the docks, and to their joy and delight they could overlook the shipping from their bedchamber. They were just two big children, and all day long they wandered in and out of the docks and on the landing-stage, and found each day too short to see the wonders at hand. Here there was a great liner coming in, there a Manx boat departing, crammed full of excursionists; in one dock cotton was being unladed, and in another was a vessel with a crew of Lascars. To that vessel they returned again and again, content to watch their dusky brethren, with their outlandish ways and non-understandable tongue, for hours at a time. Twice they saw real Chinamen with pigtails, and once, also, two Turks in turbans.

'Does't like it?' Zike asked his wife every half hour or so.
'Like it? It's grand. Aw could stop here forever-wi' thee.'
'Are't glad we're wed?'

'Naw, lad, it's none a bit o' good askin' me again. Aw shanna tell thee agen, for Aw've towd thee forty times to-day a'ready, and about a hunderd every other day.'

'Gie me a kiss, then, mi wife.'

'Do act dacent, Zike. Tha doesna see ladies and gentlemen. kissin' in th'streets. Let's be as dacent and respectable as we con.'

'A'reet, lass, Aw'll do owt to please thee. Bur, sithee, here's a quiet corner and nob'dy'll see us, so tha may as weel gie me one.' Kate, with a laugh at his softness,' always yielded. Zike was continually finding 'quiet corners.' The third day of the honeymoon they went by steamer to New Brighton. They had a sail and played on the sands and inspected the battery. It was enjoyable, but not the height of bliss, and after a few hours they went back to the pine spires, feeling that they had done the sights, and were glad it was over.

Eh, my lass, if Aw'd bin owt of a mon Aw should ha' bin a sailor,' said Zike again on the last morning of their holiday.

'If tha'd bin a sailor, lad, tha'd ha bin i' thi grave wi' drink afore now.'

Zike looked gloomy, and that must not be.

'And tha'd never ha' known me, and ther's no tellin' what

Aw should ha' bin.'

6

His face brightened. Ah, that's true, lass; it's just as weel Aw werena.' They were not far from the kingdom in those days. In the afternoon Zike made little boats from a newspaper, and with glistening eyes they watched the fortunes of their little craft, spending the whole afternoon in a model yacht contest. Zike was busy urging on his own particular craft, which was lagging behind, with stones, when he heard a scream and a splash. He looked round to see Kate's head disappearing. For a moment his senses were numbed, to return the next in one great thrill of agony. Instead of running to where she had fallen in, he sprang from where he stood with a mighty leap. He was nothing of a swimmer, despite his passion for the sea. But by a mighty effort, and after what seemed an eternity, he reached the spot, and they seized each other convulsively. Somehow he struggled with her to the steps, where they both fell senseless.

They had tasted of death together and held it sacred. Neither of them ever referred to it afterwards, nor was there need. It branded itself deeply on heart and brain, and influenced every act and emotion.

They went back to Cudnow with something of a shudder. Not only had they escaped from their neighbours for a while, but they had been face to face with Nature-not at her best, indeed, but lovely to their childish eyes after the refuse-heaps and pitbanks of Cudnow.

6

'Never mind, lass,' said Zike as they were journeying homewards, we'll save up and ha' a week here a' th'Wakes. Aw should like to live near th'say allus.'

'Aw dunna like th'thowt o' goin' back to Cudnow, lad, ther's nob'dy nice theer.'

Aw dunna wonder at it, mi wench, bur when we've get on a bit, and Aw con find wark at a dacenter place, we'll flit. Ther's one er two good folk at Cudnow, though. Them Methodies arena a bad lot, bur they'll ha' nowt to say to me.'

"

Ah, we'll fit when we're better off, bur none yet, or else Cudnow folk'll think they druven us out. We'll show 'em we dunna care a toss-up fer 'em. Bur mind thee, lad, Aw'd rayther live in Cudnow wi' thee than anywheer else without thee.'

"

Eh, lass, tha'rt a lot too fond o' a poor devvle like me.'

'Be quiet! Never thee use that word agen. Tha knows what we've said, as how we're goin' to be diff'runt to Cudnow folks.'

Ay, lass, we'll try. Aw dunna doubt as we shall be. Nob'dy would ever ha' thowt tha'd ever ha' made a mon o' me. It's wonnerful, tha knows, when tha thinks on it.'

Eh, lad, tha were bad becos tha'd nob'dy to tek care o' thee or to tek care of. It'd break my heart if tha took to drink and thy owd ways agen.'

'Tha's no need to be feart. Aw'm none goin' to break thi heart just yet a bit. Tha con just do what tha likes wi' me, and that tha knows. By Gum! on'y one moor station and we'st be theer. Aw wish we were goin' t'other road. Aw've fair enj'yed misel'.'

'So have Aw.'

'Hast? Art sure?'

'How many moor times mun Aw tell thee? Eh, lad, Aw conna tell thee how happy Aw am; it seems to me Aw were never happy afore. Aw cried mony a time yesterday just to think on it.'

'Nay, there mun be no cryin' naw, mi wench, er else folk'll say Aw've bin ill-usin' thee.'

'Let 'em say what they like; Aw know and tha knows. Hello! we're stoppin'. We mun mek th'best o' it, lad.'

They did not know that Cudnow, after much discussion, had prepared a welcome home for them.

The marriage had been almost the sole topic of conversation during their absence. Men and women discussed it at the street corners, in the publics, and each other's houses with outspoken freedom. When the women learnt that the wedding had taken place, they met at Mrs. Torkington's garden-gate and passed their verdict on the whole matter.

'Well, Aw say it's a downreet shawm,' said Mrs. Boothroyd, a middle-aged woman of immense girth, 'fer two sich to be wed. Bur Aw guess we owt to be thankful as they've bin churched. It's moor than Aw expected. What's he bur a dirty scoundrel as hengin's too good fer? And as fer her-why, Aw should be ashawmed to mention sich. And then fer t'be married sacret, like thieves!'

It shows they're no good,' put in Mrs. Thatcher, a younger woman who, two years previously, so short are memories, had had

to be made an honest woman,' as the Lancashire phrase is. 'Never axed a neighbour to a bite nor sup fer owd acquaintance sake.'

'Who wanted?' asked Mrs. Torkington, with a toss of her head. 'Who wanted to see a workus-brat and a jail-bird wed, or to have owt as is theirs, which isna mich, Aw'll be bound? None me.'

'Th'law owt to put a stop to workus and sich gettin' wed and floodin' th'country wi' imps like theirsel's,' said another stout lady, supporting her weight against the wall, and her arms folded under her apron. 'Wheer did that gal come fro'? What were her mother? Dunna ax me or mention sich.' And the good soul shivered.

'Aw'll tell yo' what,' said Mrs. Torkington; 'we'll ran-tan 'em!'

'So we will! So we will!' cried they all, delighted with the

idea. That's just the very thing to show 'em.'