"We got his body," went on Jack after a long pause. "Mr. Wright, th' saddler, saw to that. It wer' brought to his house, an' th' funeral wer' fra' theer. He wer' buried i' Huddersfield Churchyard, an' all th' town wer' theer. George Mellor and Thorpe walked after th' hearse, an' all th' folk, hundreds on 'em, 'at could lay the'r hands on a bit, wore white crape around their arm. It wer' a gran' funeral." "And Faith?" said Mary. "'Oo leaned o' Mrs. Wright, 'at wer' like a mother to her. Th' owd father weren't theer. But Faith looked just all brokken to pieces, poor wench." "I'll go to her, straight away," cried Mary. "Aye, do, Mary," said my mother, "and bring her up to Holme wi' yo'. She wants some kitchen physic as well as other folk." "Yo' forget yo'r ill i' bed, aunt," said Mary, "and Ben's away to Macclesfield." "Well, if aw amn't, aw soon shall be, if this mak' o' wark goes on. Oh! George, tha's a deal to answer for, an' it's much if tha doesn't break thi mother's heart afore tha's done, an' then there 'll be an end o' poor Matty, too." I fret a deal over John Booth's awful death and felt in a manner that it lay at my door. Faith's sad face haunted my fevered dreams, and I reproached myself not a little that I had not taken more care of the lad. And yet, looking back, I do not see that I could have done other than I did. I spoke with Mary on the matter. "It's a bad job for Faith losing her brother like this, Mary. I doubt she'll take it sore to heart. Her whole life seemed centred and wrapped up in John. They might have been twins. I blame misen shocking that aw left him to shift for hissen." "I don't see how yo'r to blame, Ben. From all I can make out, yo'd enough to do to look out for yersen; and it's only natural that 'Siah an' Soldier, anyway 'Siah, our own man, should look to yo' first an' foremost, choose how others fared." "But I promised Faith that I'd have an eye to him." "Well you did your best, and th' best can do no more. It's no use thee working thissen into a fever, an' tossin' about as if tha wer' on a hot backstone, an' kickin' th' clo'es off thee as fast as aw can put them on, over summat at's done an' can't be undone." "Yo'r only a Job's comforter, Mary. Aw should have thought tha'd more feeling in thee." "Feeling! aw've feeling enough. But it's time to talk a bit o' sense. There's been mischief enough an' to spare o' late about feeling. It's feeling baht sense 'at brought yo' into this mess, an' yo'r noan aht o' th' wood yet. Happen tha'll live to envy John Booth, an' wish tha'd been left for dead at Rawfolds i'stead o' 'scaping to find a worse fate. I declare aw never hear a step come to th' door but my heart goes into mi mouth an mi knees shake so aw can hardly stand. There's feeling for yo', if yo' like. Mr. Chew says it's a hanging job for them 'at's caught."