“The Lord’s workin’,” said the latter, simply. “Yance Natty Blyth had te gan tiv ’im. Noo, he ’ez te cum te Natty Blyth. What’s oop ah deean’t knoa, but ah knoa ’at t’ prayers o’ God’s people ’s at yah end, an’ ’at Nestleton chapil’s at t’uther, an’ the Lord’s linkin’ on ’em tegither.”
“The old squire’s looking very grey and haggard,” said Farmer Houston, “and how bent and bowed he is!”
“Ah’s freeten’d he dizn’t knoa where te tak’ his trubbles. If he wad nobbut tak’ ’em te t’ Cross, that’s the spot te get rid on ’em. At ony rate he wad get strength te bide ’em.”
Nathan Blyth re-appeared for a moment to excuse his absence, and Adam Olliver, having led his donkey to the door, and mounted it, rode off in company with Farmer Houston. His last words to the silent and thoughtful blacksmith were,—
“Good mornin’, aud friend! Remember what you were singin’,—
Ah’ll trust tiv His faithfulness, happen what may,
Ah’ll gooa tell the Lord all aboot it.”
