Previous - Next
and crying very readily both at the good and the evil. But a certain
awe mingled itself with her idolatrous love of Adam, and when he said,
"Leave me alone," she was always silenced.
So the hours passed, to the loud ticking of the old day-clock and the
sound of Adam's tools. At last he called for a light and a draught
of water (beer was a thing only to be drunk on holidays), and Lisbeth
ventured to say as she took it in, "Thy supper stan's ready for thee,
when thee lik'st."
"Donna thee sit up, mother," said Adam, in a gentle tone. He had worked
off his anger now, and whenever he wished to be especially kind to his
mother, he fell into his strongest native accent and dialect, with which
at other times his speech was less deeply tinged. "I'll see to Father
when he comes home; maybe he wonna come at all to-night. I shall be
easier if thee't i' bed."
"Nay, I'll bide till Seth comes. He wonna be long now, I reckon."
It was then past nine by the clock, which was always in advance of
the days, and before it had struck ten the latch was lifted and Seth
entered. He had heard the sound of the tools as he was approaching.
"Why, Mother," he said, "how is it as Father's working so late?"
"It's none o' thy feyther as is a-workin'--thee might know that well
anoof if thy head warna full o' chapellin'--it's thy brother as does
iverything, for there's niver nobody else i' th' way to do nothin'."
Lisbeth was going on, for she was not at all afraid of Seth, and usually
poured into his ears all the querulousness which was repressed by her
awe of Adam. Seth had never in his life spoken a harsh word to his
mother, and timid people always wreak their peevishness on the gentle.
But Seth, with an anxious look, had passed into the workshop and said,
"Addy, how's this? What! Father's forgot the coffin?"
"Aye, lad, th' old tale; but I shall get it done," said Adam, looking up
and casting one of his bright keen glances at his brother. "Why, what's
the matter with thee? Thee't in trouble."
Seth's eyes were red, and there was a look of deep depression on his
mild face.
"Yes, Addy, but it's what must be borne, and can't be helped. Why,
thee'st never been to the school, then?"
"School? No, that screw can wait," said Adam, hammering away again.
"Let me take my turn now, and do thee go to bed," said Seth.
"No, lad, I'd rather go on, now I'm in harness. Thee't help me to carry
it to Brox'on when it's done. I'll call thee up at sunrise. Go and eat
thy supper, and shut the door so as I mayn't hear Mother's talk."
Seth knew that Adam always meant what he said, and was not to be
persuaded into meaning anything else. So he turned, with rather a heavy
heart, into the house-place.
"Adam's niver touched a bit o' victual sin' home he's come," said
Lisbeth. "I reckon thee'st hed thy supper at some o' thy Methody folks."
"Nay, Mother," said Seth, "I've had no supper yet."
"Come, then," said Lisbeth, "but donna thee ate the taters, for Adam
Previous - Next
