James T. Boulton

"I shanna* be a minute."

The other sat quite still, waiting, noting with faint dis-
approval the general untidiness of the room, which was clean,
if littered. Then she fell, with womanly curiosity, to counting
the shoes of various sizes scattered over the room. There were
twelve. She sighed and said to herself, "No wonder!"--
glancing again over the litter. Then came the scratching of
two pairs of feet across the yard, and the Rigleys entered.
Elizabeth Bates rose. Rigley was a big man, with very large
bones. His head looked particularly bony. Across his temple
was a large blue scar, caused by a wound got in the pit, a wound
in which the coal-dust remained blue like tattooing.

" 'Asna 'e come whom yit?"* asked the man, without any
form of greeting, but with a fine rough sympathy, and some
concern: "I dunna think there's owt amiss -- 'e's non ower
theer, though!"* -- he jerked his head to signify the "Prince of
Wales."

"E's 'appen* gone up to th' 'Yew,' " said Mrs. Rigley, gently,
showing by her tone that she was upset.

"I bet that's wheer 'e is!" adjoined the husband. "Else
at Jack Salmon's. 'E's very likely at Jack Salmon's, tha' knows
'is daughter wor married yisterday."*

There was another pause. Rigley had evidently something
to get off his mind:

"Ah left 'im finishin' a stint* ," he began. "Loose--a'* 'ad
bin gone about ten minutes when we com'n away* , an' I shouted,
'Are ter comin'* , Walt?' an' 'e said, 'Go on, Ah shanna be but

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