Jim listened drowsily as I poured the whole tale into his ears, yawning mightily and grumbling not a little at being robbed of his rest to hearken to the opinions of a couple of old women, as he irreverently called his mother and Mrs. Wrigley. "Aw sud ha' thowt we'd enough o' yar hands wi' Mitchell Mill wi'out bein' set on to hunt up folks' kith an' kin. What does Miriam want wi' onny o' her own side? Won't she ha' enow o' yours? There'll be your feyther, an' Ruth, an', after a fashion, me an' mi mother. That sud be relations enow to satisfy onny ordinary body--to say nowt o' Ephraim o' Burnplatts, who's a handful o' himself, though aw don't gradely see wheer he comes in. Aw'm noan so keen o' kinsfolk mysen, an aw'st be capped if yo'r Miriam doesn't tak' after me. But what ails askin' her hersen? If oo's frettin' for her feyther's folk--a feyther oo nivver saw, much less his folk--oo's nowt to do but say so, an' thin yo' can set to wark; but let sleepin' dogs lie, say I. N'er trouble trouble till trouble troubles. "That won't do, Jim," I said. "I wish with all my heart it would, but it won't. I'll be honest with myself anyhow. You see, even if Miriam in her heart of hearts yearned after her relatives, and all their discovery may mean to her, she would never let on to me that it is so. She would fear to hurt me and to wound father and Ruth. No, no, I've to do what's right, and no one's back but mine can bear this burden." "Why not talk it ovver wi' yo'r Ruth?" asked Jim "oo's more sense i' her little finger than tha has i' that big yead o' thine, an' oo'll noan stand shillyshallyin' first this way an' then that. If y' like, as a pertickler favour to yo, aw'll don missen up to-neet an' walk ovver to th' Pole, an' put the whole case i' front o' Ruth, an' yo' be guided by her, that's my advice." "No, no, Jim, it won't do. I'm going into Lancashire myself, and if Miriam has any relations living I'm going to find them." "Tell, if tha'rt set, tha'rt set, an' theer's an end on 't; but aw dunnot see th' use o' wakin' me up i' th' middle o' th' neet to ax my advice if tha'd made up thi mind to go thi own way i' th' finish." Jim had yet to learn that the only advice people welcome is that which confirms their own opinions. "Weel, how are ta bahn to set agate?" asked Jim, after a pause. "Tha cannot varry weel go to Manchester axin' ivvery blessed man tha comes across if he's owt akin to Miriam's feyther." "Did you ever hear of a lawyer called Roberts, I think, a Manchester man?" "Owd 'Yaller Breeches'? Aw sud think aw did." "Yaller Breeches?" I queried. "Aye, they seyn a what do yo' ca' 'em, a cust'mer o' his--no, that's noan th' word." "A client," I suggested.