'She was a narvious sort, was Mary, an' she tell't Jack ov't, an' Jack, he says, iv his queer clipp't Yorkshire way o' talk, "T' spirrits be d----d!" says he; "an' if that softy Tom comes interferin' 'twixt thoo an' me, I'll make him softier than ever," he says, shakin' a great big hairy fist that looked like a bullock's head. 'Well, they gets theirsel's married wivoot askin' leave either o' the "spirrits" or o' Tom, an' as nowt happened, an' Jack forbye was tarr'ble lucky iv his cavils[5] just efter his marriage, even Mary began ti laugh at the idea o' Tom an' his "spirrits" an' aal. 'They was tarr'ble happy those two, an' I mind well hoo proud and triumphant-like Jack looked as he slapped us on the back one early summer mornin' as we went ti the pit on the fore-shift, for I was only a hewer then, same as himsel', an' not what I is now--checkweighman, an' half ov a magistrate as well, bein' vice-chairman o' wor lokil District Council[6]--an' he cries, "Geordie," he says, "Geordie, man, I's that happy I can scarcely haud myself in. There's nowt I couldn't do. I could hew as much in one shift as any five men together in two; I could lepp ower a hoos, I's that cobby. I could challenge wee Bob Aitchison, t' sprinter, to a quarter-mile, an' lay t' fortnight's wages that I'd best him too. I could sing, I b'lieve," he says, an' wiv a solemn voice on him he adds: "Ay, an' I could even put up a bit prayer--though I's not much ov a Churchman--almost as weel as t' priest himself. An' I'll tell thoo why. It's because Mary tells me that there's likely gawin' to be an addition to the fam'ly party sometime shortly. She's a rare well-bred un, too, is Mary, an' I'll lay it's twins." "I'll gie ye the best o' luck," says I, "but twins is tarr'ble expensive, for I've tried 'em," says I. "Man alive!" cries he, holdin' up his arm--a proper colossyum ov a limb--"look at that. If that cannot win bread for a dozen o' twins, then a lighted candle cannot fire gas," says he. 'He was a fine brave man,' continued 'the Heckler' slowly, 'an' I can see him still standin' on the heapstead, an' I mind hoo pleased he was that he could hear a lark singin' high i' the air ower heid just as the sun peeped up before we went doon i' the cage that mornin' for the last time together--just as full o' life an' vigour he was as thoo is noo--but for all that it was the last time I saw him alive i' this world. 'It was the vary next mornin' that he was killed, but I wasn't doon the pit that day, for I had happened a bit accident the day before through a shot that went wrang on us, an' I was laid up i' bed for a week wiv a bandage ower my eyes. I bear the marks yet,' and he pointed to some small blue punctures, not unlike shot marks, that the gunpowder had left round about his left eyelid and cheekbone.