slip." 

 "Don't you go to church on Sundays?" 

 "Eh dear! I wonder what they'd say if me an' Aunt Nancy an' Uncle Jim was to go paddlin' in among all the fine folks—wi' bare feet an' all." 

 She laughed grimly. 

 "Will yo' coom yonder for the cockles?" she inquired presently. 

 John nodded, and, turning, she ran down the hill, fleet as a hare, and disappeared round its curved base. 

 John walked homewards thoughtfully, his own troubles quite forgotten in the consideration of Sally's lot. All that evening, and even during his work on the following morning, he pondered over it, and it was with a portentous face that he betook himself at noon to the trysting-place. So punctual was he that he stood there for some minutes before a musical cry of "Cockles! fine cockles!" came ringing down the lane, and presently Sally appeared, the basket poised upon her head throwing a deep shadow over her face, but the curves of her figure strongly defined by the brilliant summer sunlight. Halting by the gate she balanced her basket on the upper bar, and immediately measured out a quart by way of greeting. 

 "How much?" inquired business-like John. 

 "Ye may have 'em for nought; I've got plenty, see. They're fine ones, ar'n't they?" 

 "I'd sooner pay you for them. You want the money perhaps." 

 "Well, then," said Sally, and thrust out her brown palm. 

 "Sally," said John, seriously, "I've been thinking a deal about you. I think it is somethin' dreadful the way you are livin'—you so comely an' all. It's an awful thing to think you don't know anythin' and never go to church or that. Do you never say your prayers?" 

 Sally looked at him, and twisted open a cockle before replying. 

 "Nay, I dunnot. Aunt Nancy doesn't neither." 

 "Do you know who made you, Sally?" 

 "I larned at school, the on'y time I went, but I forget now." 

 Prev. P 8/202 next