“Eh, dear o’ me,” cried John, “’tis enough to drive a mon distracted, what wi’ one thing an’ what wi’ another. I ax naught but a quiet life. Jinny, hoo woke the babby, and the missus, hoo got in one of her tantrums, an’ the childer was all fightin’ an’ skrikin’, an’ the whole place upside down—eh, theer’s too many on ’em yonder an’ that’s the truth, but if I say a word hoo’s down on me.” “Yo’re a gradely fool to ston’ it, then!” retorted Joe. “The mon should be gaffer in his own house.” “Oh, I don’t say but what he ought to be,” responded John, with a sheepish smile, “but ’tis easier said than done, mon: I weren’t a-goin’ to leave the little lass in the wash-house,” he added in an explanatory tone, “I were goin’ to let her out reet enough on the quiet. I’d saved a bit o’ dinner for her, too—” “Oh, yo’ had, had yo’?” interrupted Joe, ironically. “Coom now, that’s summat. You weren’t goin’ to let her clem on Christmas Day—well done! ’Twas actin’ like a mon, that was—yo’ may be proud o’ that, John. I tell yo’ what,” cried Joe, thumping the table, “since yo’ take no more thought for your own flesh an’ blood nor that, yo’ may mak’ a present o’ the little lass to me.” “Mak’ a present!” stammered the other, staring at him. “Ah,” returned Joe, sternly, “you don’t vally her no more nor if hoo wer’ an owd dish-clout—lettin’ her be thrown out in the wash-house an’ all—but I’m made different. Your house is too full, yo’ say—well mine’s empty—awful empty,” he added with something like a groan. “Theer’s too many on yo’ yon, at your place—well, then, I’ll take Jinny off ye.” John still stared at him without speaking, and Joe continued vehemently. “I say I’ll take her off yo’. There’ll ’appen be more peace at yo’r place when the little wench is out of the road; an’ they curls o’ hers may stop on her head instead o’ being cut off an’ thrown in the midden—an’ if hoo axes for a bit o’ sugar hoo shan’t get hit wi’ a spoon. Theer now,” he summed up sternly. John scratched his head and reflected. Jinny was his own flesh and blood, and he loved her after his fashion; but there was no doubt things were very uncomfortable at home, and if she were not there, there was likely to be more peace. If Joe really meant what he said he might be worth hearkening to. “Yo’ seem to have taken a wonderful fancy to the little lass,” he said hesitatingly; “hoo’s a good little lass enough, but—I reckon yo’re laughin’ at me.” “I wer’ never more in earnest i’ my life,” said Joe. “Coom, it mun be one way or t’other. Mun I have her?” “Oh, you can have her reet enough!” returned the father, with a shamefaced laugh. “Would ye like to live here, Jinny?” “Eh, I would!” she cried. “Eh, that I would! He shall be my new daddy.” A pang shot through her own father’s heart. “An’ yo’ll think no more o’ the owd one now, I reckon,” he said. Jinny looked from one to the other quickly.