"She getten it," she proclaimed. "I did na. I'd nivver ha' bowt th' thing i' th' world. Blue nivver wur becomin' to me. She getten it. She nivver had no taste." "Aye," said Mrs. Briarley, "I did get it fur thee, tha nasty owd piece, but tha'lt nivver catch me at th' loike again,--givin' thee presents, when I hannot a bit o' finery to my name." "It allus set me off--red did," cried Mrs. Dixon. "It wur my fav'rite color when I wur a lass,--an' I wur a good-lookin' lass, too, seventy year ago." "I'm sure you was, ma'am," responded Mrs. Haworth. "I've no doubt on it." "She canna hear thee," said Mrs. Briarley. "She's as deaf as a post--th' ill-tempert owd besom," and proceeded to give a free translation at the top of her lungs. "She says tha mun ha' been han'some. She says ony-body could see that to look at thee." "Aye," sharply. "She's reet, too. I wur, seventy year ago. Who is she?" "She's Mester Haworth's mother." "Mester Haworth's mother?" promptly. "Did na tha tell me he wur a rich mon?" "Aye, I did." "Well, then, what does she dress i' that road fur? She's noan quality. She does na look much better nor thee." "Eh! bless us!" protested Mrs. Briarley. "What's a body to do wi' her?" "Don't mind her, ma'am," said Mrs. Haworth. "It don't do no harm. A old person's often sing'lar. It don't trouble me." Then Janey, issuing from her retirement in comparatively full dress, was presented with due ceremony. "It wur her as fun thy place i' th' hymn-book," said Mrs. Briarley. "She's a good bit o' help to me, is Jane Ann." It seemed an easy thing afterward to pour forth her troubles, and she found herself so far encouraged by her visitor's naive friendliness that she was even more eloquent than usual. "Theer's trouble ivvery wheer," she said, "an' I dare say tha has thy share, missus, fur aw thy brass." Politeness forbade a more definite reference to the "goin's-on" which had called forth so much virtuous indignation on the part of the Broxton matrons. She felt it but hospitable to wait until her guest told her own story of tribulation. But Mrs. Haworth sat smiling placidly. "I've seen it in my day," she said; "an' it were heavy enough too, my dear, an' seemed heavier than it were, p'r'aps, through me bein' a young thing an' helpless, but I should be a ungrateful woman if I didn't try to forget now as it had ever been. A woman as has such a son as I have--one that's prospered an' lived a pure, good life an' never done a willful wrong, an' has won friends an' respect everywhere--has enough happiness to help her forget troubles that's past an' gone." Mrs. Briarley stopped half-way to the ground in the act of picking up Granny Dixon's discarded head-gear. Her eyes were wide open, her jaw fell a little. But her visitor went on without noticing her. "Though, for the matter of that," she said, "I dare say there's not one on you as doesn't know his ways, an' couldn't tell me of some of his goodness as I should never find out from him."