'We conno ha no draughts on th' owd man.' And she drew him into the light, and shut the door.

Then as the shaded candle and firelight fell on the tall lad, wavering now to this side, now to that, as though unable to support himself, his clothes dripping on the flags, his face deadly white, save for the smears of blood upon it, the two women fell back in terror.
'Will yo gie me shelter ?' said the boy, hoarsely; 'I bin lying hours i' th' wet.

Aunt Hannah turned me out.' Margaret came close to him and looked him all over.
'What for did she turn yo out, Davy ?' 'I wor late.

I'd been fightin Jim Wigson, an she smelt me o' drink.' And suddenly the lad sank down on a stool near, and laid his head in his hands, as though he could hold it up no longer.

Margaret's blanched old face melted all in a minute.
'Howd 'un up quick!' she said to her companion, still in a whisper.
'He hanno got a dry thread on--and luke at that cut on his yed--why, he'll be laid up for weeks, maybe, for this.