"Eh," said Mary, as we walked slowly down Ward Lane, "Eh! that aw should ha' lived to see this day, an' my 'Lijah ta'en away i' his prime afore it come off. 'Affliction sore long time he bore, physicians were i' vain'; at least Dr. Garstang were. But happen he's been permitted to look down from aboon an' see his lone widder an' th fruit o his loins sittin at table wi' his owd mester an' his mester's missus. Did yo' notice th' spooin's, Abe? Real silver, every one on 'em, hall-marked, an' th' salt cellars an' th' teapot. Aw wonder Mrs. Wrigley can sleep i' bed o' neets wi' so mich silver about. Little cattle, little care's a true sayin'. An' th' cups an' saucers, Crown Derby 'oo towd me. An' yo' should ha' seen upstairs. Th' cloe's on th' bed that high they'd to ha' a steppin' stooil to get into bed; an' a feather bed that soft an' thick 'at it's a wonder onnybody can be got to ger up in a mornin. An' th' hair brushes--iv'ry backs an' han'les. An' a wardrobe, aw think oo ca'ed it, wi' a glass to it fro' top to bottom, so yo' could see yersen fro yead to fooit. It gay' mi a turn it did, aw assewer yo'. Aw nivver seed missen full length afore, an' aw could hardly believe it were me. An' th' dresses! Aw do believe oo's a dress for evvry day i' th' week, an' two for Sundays. An' th' linen--all ready choose oo dies. Oo showed me th' sheets Mr. Wrigley's to be laid out in, an' th' shirt wi', frilled front, an' th' same for hersen. Oh, they needn't be feart to go whenivver it may please th' gooid Lord to ca' 'em, for they'n all ready if it were to-morrow. An' to think yo' an' our Jim may ha' th' same if it sud please the Lord to prosper yo'. Aw cannot bear to think on it, Abe; mi heart's full to burstin'. Aw dunnot know what aw'n done to ha' so mich happiness showered on mi i' mi owd days"--and here Mary fairly sobbed, and the tears streamed down her cheeks. I comforted her as best I could by saying that to be sure she hadn't done much to deserve such luck: only been the best of wives, the best of mothers, and the best of friends, with a hand ready for any service and a heart that made all her neighbours' troubles its own. And so by the time we reached her little cot Mary was her serene self once more, and on her straw mattress slept, I doubt not, as sweet a sleep as Mrs. Wrigley on her bed of down. CHAPTER XI. JIM AND I GO ON A QUEST.