136 COUSIN PHILLIS.
would be a relief to talk a little to some one, and I sate down by him. While I was thinking how to begin, he yawned weariedly.
"You are tired, Tim?" said I.
"Ay," said he. "But I reckon I may go home now."
"Have you been sitting here long?"
"Welly all day long. Leastways sin' seven i' th' morning."
"Why, what in the world have you been doing?"
"Nought."
"Why have you been sitting here, then?"
"T' keep carts off." He was up now, stretching himself, and shaking his lubberly limbs.
"Carts! what carts?"
"Carts as might ha' wakened yon wench! It's Hornby market-day. I reckon yo're no better nor a half-wdt yoursel'." He cocked his eye at me as if he were gauging my intellect.
"And have you been sitting here all day to keep the lane quiet?"
"Ay. I've nought else to do. Th' minister has turned me adrift. Have yo' heard how th' lass is faring to-night?"
"They hope she'll waken better for this long sleep. Good-night to you, and God bless you, Timothy," said I.
He scarcely took any notice of my words, as he lumbered across a stile that led to his cottage. Presently I went home to the farm. Phillis had stirred, had spoken two or three faint words. Her mother was with her, dropping nourishment into her scarce conscious mouth. The rest of the household were summoned to evening prayer for the first time for many days. It was a return to the daily habits of happiness and health. But in
