He pays me aforehand; an' he pays me down for whativer a've getten for him; but that's but little; he's noane up t' his vittle, though a've made him some broth as good as a could make 'em.' 'I wouldn't send him away till he was well again, if I were yo; but I think yo'd be better rid on him,' said Sylvia.

'It would be different if yo'r brother were in Monkshaven.' As she spoke she rose to go.
Widow Dobson held her hand in hers for a minute, then the humble woman said,-- 'Yo'll noane be vexed wi' me, missus, if a cannot find i' my heart t' turn him out till he wants to go hissel'?
For a wouldn't like to vex yo', for Christopher's sake; but a know what it is for t' feel for friendless folk, an' choose what may come on it, I cannot send him away.' 'No!' said Sylvia.

'Why should I be vexed?
it's no business o' mine.
Only I should send him away if I was yo'.

He might go lodge wheere there was men-folk, who know t' ways o' tramps, and are up to them.' Into the sunshine went Sylvia.

In the cold shadow the miserable tramp lay sighing.