"Quiet, aye, yo'd be quiet if somebody cut thee across th' face wi' a whip. Listen here. Aw'd been up to Linfit, an' were comin' quiet as a lamb along th' road back to th' cropping shop. An' just above th' Warren House, by Radcliffe's plantation, tha' knows, wer' a woman about thirty year old, crouched agen th' wall. I could see a pair o' men's shooin sticking out fra underneath her skirt, and it's my belief 'oo'd nowt on her but just that skirt an' an old thin black shawl. Neither sock nor shift, an' it's none too warm o' neets yet. She wer' crying and moanin' an' rocking hersen to an' fro', swaying her body back'ards and for'ards, an 'oo'd a bundle o' summat in her arms lying across her breast, an' 'oo strained it to her and made her moan. Her face were pale as death, an' her cheek bones seemed high an' sharp, an' th' skin drawn tight as a drum across 'em. An' her eyes were sunk in her yed, but black an' wild an' staring. An' her lips were thin and bloodless, an' there was a line of blood upon 'em as tho' she bled, an' her arms and hands were thin and skinny. Aw didn't know her, but aw stopped to see what ailed her. She wouldn't, talk for a bit; she'd do nowt but moan. An' then 'oo told me she'd been down to Huddersfielt to see th' Relieving Officer. Her husband wer' a cropper. He'd been thrown out o' work. His master'd put in two frames, an' he had to leave. He's down wi' th' rheumatic fever. They'd nowt to eat, an' nowt to sup. 'Oo'd been sucklin' th' babby, an' as time went on she'd no milk in her breasts for th' little one. 'Oo'd fed it for days by soaking a rag i' warm milk an' water an' lettin' it suck at that. But th' little thing had pined and pined, crying an' wailin' and, o' a night, pressin' its little mouth to her dry breasts an' drawin' nowt but wind. An' then it had th' convulsions, an' she had to leave her man ravin' i' th' fever an' hug th' brat to Huddersfield, an' there they'd nowt for her, an' 'oo must back agen wi' nother bite nor sup between her lips an' nowt the better for her tramp. She oppened her shawl, an' as I'm a livin' man, there wer' th' little 'un wi' a head no bigger nor mi fist, stark dead at its mother's breast; and its eyes starin' an' starin' an' its face all drawn wi' pain. It made my heart stand still, an' aw felt as if a strong man were clutchin' at my throat." "Aw stood before her mute. Aw couldn't speak. An' just then I heard th' sound o' a horse's trot, an' I turned round an' there wer' Horsfall o' Ottiwell's coming up th' road. He wer' wipin' his mouth wi' th' back o' his hand, and' aw judged he'd stopped for a glass at th' Warrener. Aw don't know what possessed me, but aw nipped up th' child fra' its' mother's arms an' stepped right i' th' front o' his horse it swerved, an' he swayed in his saddle." 'Damn you, mind where yo're walking,' he said. 'Stand aside and leave the road free, yo' drunken tramp.'