When I look back on those days that seem sometimes so far, far away, and at other times as though but yesterday, I blush to think how much I must be in Mary's debt. For certain sure am I that the sum paid by Mr. Wrigley for my board and lodging never paid Mary. But she never stinted me, and the only times she grieved were the days I was off my food and could not eat my fill of the homely but wholesome fare she set before me. When I grew older and more noticing, as they say, I once hinted that my father should be asked to supplement Mr. Wrigley's payment, though well I knew there was little to spare at the Manse at Pole Moor. But Mary had waxed wroth at this. "A bargain was a bargain," she maintained with warmth. "She'd made hers and she'd stick to it. Besides, she never could abide a finicking eater, picking here an' pishing an' pshawing, as if th' fooid weren't good enough for 'im. Besides, didn't I read th' papper to her every week an' a portion o' th' Scriptures, to say nowt o' th' 'Pilgrim's Progress.' It were as gooid as having a parson i' th' house, wi'out his airs." "How mich brass has ta?" whispered Jim to me, as he shredded his tobacco, the while his mother cleared the few pots and busied herself with washing--up. "Three shillings," I confided, fingering the coins lovingly in my breeches' pocket. "An' I've four--seven shillin' 'atween us. We'st ha' to be careful. There's th' dobby--horses, an' th' swings, an' Tom Wild's show--aw wouldn't miss 'The Pirates' Lair' for owt--an' th' fat woman with a beard, an' the three--legged hen, an' th' hot peas, an' th' brandy--snap, an' th' shooitin' gallery, an' th' aunt sally, an' th weighin' machine, an' th' pig 'at counts up to twenty, an' we 'st want a rattle apiece to scrat dahn th' lasses' shawls to mak' 'em jump an' squeal, an' then there's th' ale, but there's one comfort, tha'rt a poor supper--eh! aw dunnot see how it's to be done wi' th' brass, but we'st happen meet a trump." "What's a trump?" I asked. "A chap wi' more brass nor wit," defined Jim, as he continued. "Then there's a fairin' for th' mother. Aw munnot forget that if aw get as drunk as a wheel--head. 'Oo'd greet for a month ovver it. Nuts an' brandy--snap. It's my belief 'oo wraps 'em up i' gilt papper an' keeps 'em in th' drawer wi' them two silver spooins her gran'mother left her. 'Oo never eits 'em, that's certain, but all th' same yo' munnot let me forget th' fairin' for th' owd mother." "Why, to tell the truth, Jim, I hadn't thought of going this year. You can have my two or three shillings and welcome." "And what for no, Abel?" "You see, I haven't been to see old Mr. Turner for ever so long, and last time I was there he seemed to me to be failing. He seems ill of his mind, and he's none too long for this world." "Tha' means th' owd hermit, as they ca' him, up at Dean yead? Aw could nivver mak' aht how tha tak' up wi' such a God-forsaken owd scarecrow."