All were thinking over the usual topic, when old Gideon Jones unexpectedly led their ideas into another channel.
"Oive heern," he said slowly, taking his pipe from his mouth, "as how Nance Wilson's little gal is wuss." "Ay, indeed!" "So oi've heern;" "Be she now ?" and various other exclamations arose from the smokers.
Gideon was pleased with the effect he had produced, and a few minutes later continued the subject.
"It be the empty coopbud more nor illness, I expect." There was another chorus of assent, and a still heartier one when he wound up the subject: "These be hard toimes surely." Thinking that he had now done sufficient to vindicate his standing as one of the original thinkers of the village, Gideon relapsed into silence and smoked away gravely, with his eyes fixed on the fire, in the post of honor on one side of which was his regular seat.

The subject, however, was too valuable to be allowed to drop altogether, and Luke Marner brought it into prominence again by remarking: "They tell oi as how Nance has asked Bet Collins to watch by the rood soide to catch doctor as he droives whoam.

He went out this arternoon to Retlow." "Oi doubt he woant do she much good; it be food, and not doctor's stuff as the child needs," another remarked.
"That be so, surely," went up in a general chorus, and then a newcomer who had just entered the room said: "Oi ha' joost coom vrom Nance's and Bill Swinton ha' sent in a basin o' soup as he got vrom the feyther o' that boy as broke his leg.

Nance war a feeding the child wi' it, and maybe it will do her good.

He ha' been moighty koind to Bill, that chap hav." "He ha' been that," Gideon said, after the chorus of approval had died away.
"Oi seed t' young un today a-sitting in front o' th' cottage, a-talking and laughing wi' Bill." "They be good uns, feyther and son, though they tells oi as neither on them bain't Yaarkshire." The general feeling among the company was evidently one of surprise that any good thing should be found outside Yorkshire.