"Rise up be damned!" said Mr. Ash bluntly. "Not that I wouldn't rise up to the moon if I could take the leastest twinge off of her; but 'tis woman's work to-night. The sacred dooty of child-bearin' be now gwaine on, an' at such times even the faither hisself awnly looks a fule. Go to sleep."
"The dear lady be afore her date seemin'ly," remarked Collins, returning to his bed.
"'Tis allus so wi' the fustborn. The twoads be mostly tu forrard or tu back'ard. An' they do say as them born late be late ever after, an' do take a humble back plaace all theer days; while them born airly gets ahead of or'nary folks, an' may even graw up to be gert men. I've seed the thing fall out so for that matter."
"An' how might it have been wi' you, I wonder, if theer's no offence? How was you with regards to the reckoning?"
"'Tis a gude bit back-along when I was rather a small bwoy," answered Churdles, laughing sleepily at his own humour; "but, so far as I knaw, I comed 'pon the appointed day to a hour."
"Just what us might have counted upon in such a orderly man as you," mused Collins.
"'Tis my boast, if I've got wan, that I never made my faither swear, nor my mother shed a tear, from the day that I was tucked-up.[#] No fegs! Never. Now you best go to sleep, or you might hear what would hurt your tender 'eart."
[#] Short-coated.
CHAPTER VI.
SORROW'S FACE