Me an' Gus wer friends fra' t' first. 'E wer a shy, quiet soort o' lad, an' t' other chaps didn't seem ti taake ti 'im at first, an' it wer soort o' loansoom for a yoong chap lodgin' aloan i' a straange plaace, specially as 'e didn't seem ti care mooch for t' public-'oose o' neets. Soa wun evening, as we wer leavin' woork, ah says ti 'im, "Coom in an' 'ave a bit o' soopper wi' ma an' ma missus, lad."

'E looked real pleased, an' said 'e would coom, bud 'e wouldn't coom straight 'oam wi' ma, as ah wanted 'im ti. Noa, 'e mun gang back ti 'is lodgins an' fettle issen oop.

My missus weant best pleased when sha 'eard 'e wer coming; mebbe, theer weant ower mooch for soopper, an' sha niver were fond o' straangers; bud 'e 'adn't been i' oor lahtle room aboove 'alf a minute afoor ah seed as sha'od taaken a fancy ti 'im. 'E com in rather shy an' bashful loike, for all 'e'd maade 'issen soa graand wi' 'is Soonday coate an' all, an' ma missus, she says—

"Set ya doon an' maak yersen at whoam, while ah get summat for ya ti eat," an' 'e set doon reet theer by t' door, on t' edge o' 'is cheer, an' 'adn't a woord to say for 'issen.

Oor lahtle lass Polly—she wer nobbut fooer year owd then—shoo com in an' stood starin' at 'im wi' 'er finger i' 'er mooth, an' at sight o' 'er 'e foond 'is tongue.

"Coom 'ere, lahtle ma'ad," says 'e; "ah'm wonnerful fond o' childer. Coom an' see what ah've got i' ma pocket."

Bud t' lahtle lass still stood beside ma, starin' at 'im as if 'e wer summat i' a show.

Gus didn't saay nowt moor, but 'e oots wi' 'is knife an' a bit o' wood and starts carvin' summat.

"Noo," says 'e, arter a bit, "what shall it be? Shall ah maak tha a 'orse, or a coo, or what?"

T' lahtle lass foond 'er toongue at that.

"A lad," says she, an' cooms a step nearer ti see what 'e wer at.

"Shoo'll be a rare wun for t' lads when shoo's a bit bigger, ah'se warran'," says 'e, wi' a laugh; an' 'e goes on carvin' t' bit o' wood in a waay 'at wer wunnerful ti me. Soon t' head an' shoolthers appeared, an' then t' legs an' arms, an' all t' while t' tahtle lass crept nearer an' nearer, an' by t' tahm t' lad wer doon, shoo wer sittin' on 'is knee an' chatterin' awaay ti 'im as if 'e wer' an owd friend.

That woon moother's 'eart, for shoo's powerful set on t' lahtle lass, seem' shoo's t' oanly wun wi' 'ave—an' ah reckon ah weant far be'ind 'er i' that—an' befoor 'e left shoo'd arst 'im ti taake 'is dinner wi' us Soonday next. Arter that, Gus wer in an' oot continual, an' 'e an't' lahtle lass wer as thick as thieves. It wer pratty ti see 'er perched o' 'is knee, wi' 'is arm roond 'er, an' ti 'ear 'er pratty prattle, all aboot 'er dolls an' toys an' sooch-like. 'E used ti call 'er 'is lahtle sweet-'eart, an' saay sha mun marry 'im when sha wer growed a bit, an' t' lahtle lass 'ud look oop i' 'is faace, as graave as graave, an' promise ti be 'is lahtle wife. 'Twer as pratty a pictur as 'eart could wish to see them thegither, an' 'e niver seemed ti tire o' 'er coompany, or care ti talk wi' me or t' missus when t' lahtle lass wer theer.

Well tahm went on, an' t' job e'd coom doon 'ere for wer nigh finished—layin' rails o' new line it wer—an' 'e wer talkin' o' leavin', for 'e weant fra' oor parts; when wun daay—ah mind it wer t' first o' April, for theer'd been soom foolin' amoong t' lads earlier i' t' daay, an' t' blackthorn wer buddin' i' t' 'edges—we wer setting on t' railway bank eatin' oor dinners. Gus wer moor talkative than ordinary that daay; ah mind 'e'd been tellin' us o' t' waay they did 'arvestin' i' 'is parts—Lancashire waay—an' 'arvest-'oams, an' sooch-like, when all of a soodden ah caught sight o' ma lahtle lass runnin' along t' line. It did gie ma a toorn, for t' doon traain 'ad been signalled two or three minutes sin', an' even as ah caught sight o' 'er, ah 'eerd it roombling along i' t' distance.

"Ma God!" ah cried. "Look theer!"

Jack Wilson—'im as lives i' yon cottage wi' t' creepers doon by t' church—shoots as lood as 'e could, "Get oft t' line, bairn! Get off t' line!" Bud Polly, sha didn't taak noa 'eed ti 'im.

Then afoor ah 'ad got ma wits aboot ma, or 'ad ony idea what 'e wer goin ti do, Gus 'ad joomped doon fra' t' bank, an' were roonnin' for 'is loife doon t' line ti meet t' lahtle lass. It wer awful to see 'im, while every moment t' thoonder o' t' train com nearer.

"Is t' man mad?" cried Wilson. "It's certain death." An' even as 'e spoke, t' train com roond t' corner.

Polly stood still, terrified, an' Gus ran on reet inti t' teeth o' t' train. Ah turned deadly sick, for ah niver thowt 'e would be i' tahm, an' it seemed nobbut a waaste o' two lives; bud 'e reached 'er joost afoor t' train did. Ah seed 'im catch 'er oop an' toss 'er on ti t' bank, an' then—then t' traan wer on 'im, an' we saw noothing moor till it 'ad past. Then ah ran ti wheer 'e wer lyin', an' an awful sight it wer. It 'aunts ma yet, thoo it's nigh on ten year sin. 'E wer livin', poor chap, an' 'e looked up at ma wi' a smile, though t' death dews were gathering on 'is faace.

"T' lahtle lass?" 'e asked anxiously.

"Saafe an' well," ah answered. "Eh, Gus, lad, tha' shouldn't 'a doon it. Ah reckon she weant woorth it."

"Niver saay that!" 'e said. "Wheer is sha? Ah'd like fine to bid her good-bye."

Polly wer cryin' wi' fright on t' bank cloas at 'and. Ah called 'er, bud at first sha 'ung back, not knawin' as it wer 'er friend as lay theer, a sickenin' sight, an' not fit for a bairn ti see.

"Niver mind, John," 'e said, sadly enough. "It's better soa. Ah wouldn't like 'er ti think o' ma like this." But ah went an' fetched 'er, an' bade 'er ti thank 'im for saavin' 'er loife.

"Nay, nay," 'e said, smoilin' oop at 'er. "Good-bye, lahtle sweet'eart. Tha'lt 'ave ti get anoother lad noo."

"Nay, ah'll waait for thee an' be thy lahtle wife," says Polly sturdily, not un'erstan'in', poor lahtle lass, as 'e wer dyin'.

"Tha'lt 'ave ti waait till tha gets ti t' New Jeroosalem, then," 'e answers, "if soa be as they'll let ma in." An' at that 'e looks serious.

Ah maade 'aste ti cheer 'im oop.

"Nay, lad, thoo need 'ave noa fear o' that," ah says. "Tha mind hoo He said, 'Inasmooch as ye 'a doon it to wun o' t' least o' these, ye 'a doon it unto Me.'"

Hoo 'is faace lighted oop at that word! Then a spasm o' agony crossed it, an' t' death rattle began i' 'is throat.

'E couldn't speak, bud 'e maade ma a sign ti send t' lahtle lass away, an' ah bade 'er roon 'oam ti 'er moother. Then ah knelt doon an' raised 'im in ma arms, an' it weant long—thank God, it weant long.

Well, it's ten year sin, as ah said, an' it's an owd story noo, an' t' grass is green on 'is graave. T' lahtle lass keeps it rare an' gay wi' flooers. Shoo's growin' a graat gell noo, an' it weant be long afoor t' lads begin ti coom aboot 'er, for shoo's growin' bonny; bud shoo's niver forgotten Gus, an' if shoo iver did, ah wouldn't oan 'er as ma darter, that ah wouldn't!