"It wor John Burgess as done it," she said, staring at George. "It wor him as took the boy's life. But he's gone himsel--so theer--I'll not say no more. It wor Jamie's first week o hewin--he'd been a loader this three year, an taken a turn at the hewin now an again--an five weeks sen John Burgess--he wor butty for Mr. Morrison, yer know, in the Owd Pit--took him on, an the lad wor arnin six an sixpence a day. An he wor that pleased yo cud see it shinin out ov im. And it wor on the Tuesday as he went on the afternoon shift. I saw im go, an he wor down'earted. An I fell a cryin as he went up the street, for I knew why he wor down'earted, an I asked the Lord to elp him. And about six o'clock they come runnin--an they towd me there'd bin an accident, an they wor bringin im--an he wor alive--an I must bear up. They'd found him kneelin in his place with his arm up, an the pick in it--just as the blast had took him--An his poor back--oh! my God--scorched off him--_scorched off him_." A shudder ran through her. But she recovered herself and went on, still gazing intently at Tressady, her gaunt hand raised as though for attention. "An they braat him in, an they laid him on that settle"--she pointed to the bench by the fire--"an the doctors didn't interfere--there wor nowt to do--they left me alone wi un. But he come to, a minute after they laid im down--an I ses, 'Jamie, ow did it appen' an he ses, 'Mother, it wor John Burgess--ee opened my lamp for to light hissen as had gone out--an I don't know no more.' An then after a bit he ses, 'Mother, don't you fret--I'm glad I'm goin--I'd got the drink in me,' he ses. An then he give two three little breaths, as though he wor pantin--an I kiss him." She stopped, her face working, her trembling hands pressed hard against each other on her knee. Letty felt the tears leap to her eyes in a rush that startled herself. "An he would a bin twenty-one year old, come next August--an allus a lad as yer couldn't help gettin fond on--not sen he were a little un. An when he wor layin there, I ses to myself, 'He's the third as the coal-gettin ha took from me.' An I minded my feyther an uncle--how they was braat home both togither, when I wor nobbut thirteen years old--not a scar on em, nobbut a little blood on my feyther's forehead--but stone dead, both on em--from the afterdamp. Theer was thirty-six men killed in that explosion--an I recolleck how old Mr. Morrison--Mr. Walter's father--sent the coffins round--an how the men went on because they warn't good ones. Not a man would go down the pit till they was changed--if a man got the life choked out of im, they thowt the least the masters could do was to give un a dacent coffin to lie in. But theer--nobody helped me wi Jamie--I buried him mysel--an it wor all o the best." She dried her eyes again, sighing plaintively. George said what kind and consoling things he could think of. Mary Batchelor put up her hand and touched him on the arm as he leant over her.