was in full flow when her mother entered returning from the chapel, with a fagged face, and a large baby on her hip.
"Here, tak' him, Jane Ann," she said; "but tak' off thy apron furst, or tha'lt tumble ower it an' dirty his clean bishop wi' th' muck tha's getten on it. Eh! I am tired. Who's this here?" signifying Murdoch.
"It's Mester Murdoch," said Janey, dropping the apron and taking the child, who made her look top-heavy. "Sit thee down, mother. Yo' needn't moind him. He's a workin' mon hissen."
When Murdoch took his departure, both accompanied him to the door.
"Coom in sometime when th' mester's here," said Mrs. Briarley. "Happen yo' could keep him in a neet an' that ud be summat."
Half way up the lane he met Haworth in his gig, which he stopped.
"Wheer hast tha been?" he asked, dropping into dialect, as he was prone to do.
"To Briarley's cottage, talking to the little girl."
Haworth stared at him a moment, and then burst into a laugh.
"Tha'rt a queer chap," he said. "I can no more than half make thee out. If thy head was not so level, I should think tha wert a bit soft."
"I don't see why," answered Murdoch, undisturbed. "The child interests me. I am not a Lancashire man, remember, and she is a new species."
"Get in," said Haworth, making room for him on the seat.
Murdoch got in, and as they drove on it occurred to him to ask a question.
