Poor lamb--poor dear lamb! Yet I wouldn't wish him back, Lizzie. He must ha' died peaceful, Lizzie. He seems to be smiling. He always had such a rare smile on him--not that he's smiled much of late-- MRS. HOLROYD I loved him for that. GRANDMOTHER Ay--my poor child--my poor child. MRS. HOLROYD He looks nice, mother. GRANDMOTHER I hope he made his peace with the Lord. MRS. HOLROYD Yes. GRANDMOTHER If he hadn't time to make his peace with the Lord, I've no hopes of him. Dear o' me, dear o' me. Is there another bit of flannel anywhere? [_Mrs. Holroyd rises and brings a piece. The Grandmother begins to wash the breast of the dead man._ GRANDMOTHER Well, I hope you'll be true to his children at least, Lizzie. (_Mrs. Holroyd weeps--the old woman continues her washing_) Eh--and he's fair as a lily. Did you ever see a man with a whiter skin--and flesh as fine as the driven snow. He's beautiful, he is, the lamb. Many's the time I've looked at him, and I've felt proud of him, I have. And now he lies here. And such arms on 'im! Look at the vaccination marks, Lizzie. When I took him to be vaccinated, he had a little pink bonnet with a feather. (_Weeps_) Don't cry, my girl, don't. Sit up an' wash him a' that side, or we s'll never have him done. Oh, Lizzie! MRS. HOLROYD (_sitting up, startled_) What--what? GRANDMOTHER Look at his poor hand! [_She holds up the right hand. The nails are bloody._ MRS. HOLROYD Oh, no! Oh, no! No! [_Both women weep._ GRANDMOTHER (_after awhile_) We maun get on, Lizzie. MRS. HOLROYD (_sitting up_) I can't touch his hands. GRANDMOTHER But I'm his mother--there's nothing I couldn't do for him. MRS. HOLROYD I don't care--I don't care. GRANDMOTHER Prithee, prithee, Lizzie, I don't want thee goin' off, Lizzie. MRS. HOLROYD (_moaning_) Oh, what shall I do! GRANDMOTHER Why, go thee an' get his feet washed. He's setting stiff, and how shall we get him laid out? [_Mrs. Holroyd, sobbing, goes, kneels at the miner's feet, and begins pulling off the great boots._ GRANDMOTHER There's hardly a mark on him. Eh, what a man he is! I've had some fine sons, Lizzie, I've had some big men of sons. MRS. HOLROYD He was always a lot whiter than me. And he used to chaff me. GRANDMOTHER But his poor hands! I used to thank God for my children, but they're rods o' trouble, Lizzie, they are. Unfasten his belt, child. Me mun get his things off soon, or else we s'll have such a job. [_Mrs. Holroyd, having dragged off the boots, rises. She is weeping._ CURTAIN A SELECTION FROM DUCKWORTH & CO.'S LIST OF PUBLICATIONS [Illustration] 3 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN LONDON, W.C. DUCKWORTH & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS ANIMAL LIFE AND WILD NATURE (STORIES OF). _Uniform binding, large cr. 8vo. 6s. net._