We knew an eccentric old lady at Peekett Well, in the direction of Keighley. Fred and I had net her three months before in the course of a run in the Haworth country. She kept a small sweet shop in a stone cottage on the moor and served cups of tea as a sidelineo Although quite a dear old dame, she had become afflicted with the most primitive kind of religious mania and, when she served our tea, the good woman started a fervent discourse.