left his breakfast to attend to them. They were three in number, and they sat on chairs before the kitchen fire warming hands and feet, and complaining of the bitter weather. One was wrapped closely in a man's greatcoat, and had tied up her poke-bonnet about her ears with a shawl; another wore a stout piece of sacking over her shoulders; the third had encased her feet in successive layers of stout stocking, drawn over the boots, until she resembled an Esquimaux. Each rose and curtsied profoundly as Hepworth entered the kitchen.
"Now, then," said Hepworth. "Come again, eh? Why, it isn't a year since you were here, is it? The doorstep 'll never cool of you at this rate."
This was a pleasantry made upon every such occasion, and each old woman laughed at it as a matter of course. Having laughed, they sighed profoundly.
"Poor folks, Mestur Hepworth, poor folks, ye know!" said one. "We mun keep t' owd
