过去的“地狱街”被“河川区”取而代之，地狱街原是青山巷旁那条溪边的一片墙面凸凹不平的茅草屋，那里住的是在两个区以外小矿井里工作的矿工们。小溪从赤杨树下流过，还没有受到这些小矿井的污染。矿井的煤是使用毛驴吃力地拉着吊车拉上地面的。乡村里到处都是这种矿井，有些矿井在查理二世时期就开始采掘了。为数不多的几个矿工和毛驴像蚂蚁似的在地下打洞，在小麦地和草地上弄出奇形怪状的土堆，地面上涂成一块块的黑色。矿工们的茅屋成片成行到处都是，再加上分布在教区里的零星的庄园和织袜工人的住房，这就形成了贝斯伍德村。
大约六十年前，这里突然发生了变化。小矿井被金融家的大煤矿所排挤。后来，在诺丁汉郡和德贝郡都发现了煤矿和铁矿，便出现了卡斯特——魏特公司。帕尔莫斯勋爵在一片欢呼中，正式为本公司坐落在深坞森林公园旁边的第一家煤矿的开张剪了彩。
大概就在这个时候，臭名昭著的地狱街被烧了个精光，连大堆的垃圾也化为灰烬。
卡斯特——魏特公司吉星高照，从赛尔贝到纳塔尔河谷开采出一个又一个的新矿，不久这里就有六个新矿。一条铁路从纳塔尔开始，穿越森林中高高的砂岩，经过破落了的卡尔特会修道院、罗宾汉泉和斯宾尼公园，到达米恩顿矿，一个座落在小麦田里的大矿。铁路从米恩顿穿过谷地到达本克尔煤山，然后向北通往可以俯瞰克瑞斯和德贝郡群山的贝加利和赛尔贝。这六个矿就如六枚黑色的钉子镶嵌在田野上，由一条弯弯曲曲的细链子般的铁路串成一串。
为了安置大批矿工，卡斯特——魏特公司盖起了居民区，一个个大大的四合院在贝斯伍德山脚下出现。后来，又在河川的地狱街上，建起了河川区。
河川区包括六幢矿区住宅，分成两排，就像六点骨牌似的，每幢有十二间房子。这两排住宅坐落在贝斯伍德那陡峭的山坡脚下，从阁楼窗口望去，正对着通往赛贝尔的那座平缓的山坡。
这些房子构造坚固、相当大方。靠近谷底的一排房子的背面种着樱草和虎耳草，上面一排房子的阳面种着美洲石竹，窗前的小门厅、阁楼上的天窗收拾得干干净净，小水蜡篱笆修剪得整整齐齐。但是，这只是外表，是矿工的家眷们收拾干净不住人的客厅的景象，卧室和厨房都在房屋的后面，对着另一排房子的背面能看到的只是一片杂乱的后院和垃圾堆。在两排房屋中间，在两行垃圾堆中间，有一条小巷是孩子们玩耍，女人们聊天，男人们抽烟的场所。因此，在河川区，尽管那房子盖得不错，看起来也很漂亮，可实际生活条件却非常恶劣，因为人们生活不能没有厨房，但厨房面对的却是塞满垃圾的小巷。
莫瑞尔太太并不急着要搬到河川区，她从贝斯伍德搬到山下这间房子时，这间房已经盖了十二年了，而且开始逐渐败落。然而她不得不搬下来。她住在上面一排房子的最后一间，因此只有一家邻居，屋子的一边比邻居多了一个长条形花园。住在这头上的一间，她仿佛比那些住在“中间”房子里的女人多了一种贵族气派，因为她每星期得付五先令六便士房租，而其他却付五先令。不过，这种超人一等的优越感对莫瑞尔太太来说，安慰不大。
莫瑞尔太太三十一岁，结婚已经八年了。她身体玲珑气质柔弱，但举止果断。然而她和河川区的女人们第一次接触时，不由得有一点胆怯。她七月从山上搬下来，大约九月就怀了第三个孩子。
她的丈夫是个矿工。他们搬到新屋才三个星期就逢着每年一度的假日。她知道，莫瑞尔肯定会尽情欢度这个假日的。集市开始那天是个星期一，他一大早就出了门。两个孩子，威廉，这个七岁的男孩，吃完早饭就立即溜出家逛集市去了，撇下只有五岁的安妮哭闹了一早晨，她也想跟着去。莫瑞尔太太在干活，她还和邻居不太熟，不知道应该把小姑娘托付给谁，因此，只好答应安妮吃了午饭带她去集市。
威廉十二点半才回家，他是个非常好动的男孩，金色的头发，满脸雀斑，带几分丹麦人或挪威人的气质。
“妈妈，我可以吃饭了吗？”他戴着帽子冲进屋，喊道：“别人说，一点半集市就开始了。”
“饭一做好你就可以吃了。”妈妈笑着回答。
“饭还没好吗？”他嚷道，一双蓝眼睛气冲冲地瞪着她，“我就要错过时间了。”
“误不了。五分钟就好，现在才十二点半。”
“他们就要开始了。”这个孩子半哭半叫着。
“他们开场就要你的命啦，”母亲说，“再说，现在才十二点半，你还有整整一个小时。”
小男孩急急忙忙摆好桌子，三个人立即坐下。他们正吃着果酱布了，突然这孩子跳下椅子，愣愣地站在那儿，远处传来了旋转木马开动声和喇叭声， 他横眉冷眼地瞪着母亲。
“我早就告诉你了。”说着他奔向碗柜，一把抓起帽子。
“拿着你的布丁——现在才一点过五分，你弄错了——你还没拿你的两便士钱呢。”母亲连声喊着。
男孩极为失望地转过身来，拿了两便士钱一声不吭地走了。
“我要去，我要去。”安妮边说边哭了起来。
“好，你去，你这个哭个不停的小傻瓜！”母亲说。下午，莫瑞尔太太带着女儿，沿着高高的树篱疲倦地爬上山坡。田里的干草都堆了起来，麦茬田里牧放着牛群，处处是温暖平静的气氛。
莫瑞尔太太不喜欢赶集市。那里有两套木马：一套靠蒸汽发动，一套由小马拉着转。三架手风琴在演奏，夹杂着枪弹零星的射击声，卖椰子的小贩刺耳地尖叫声，投掷木人游戏的摊主的高声吆喝，以及摆西洋镜小摊的女人的招呼声。莫瑞尔太太看到自己的儿子站在西洋镜摊外面出神地看着，那西洋镜里正演着有名的华莱士狮子的画面，这只狮子曾经咬死一个黑人和两个白人。她没管他，自己去给安妮买了一些奶油糖。没多久，小男孩异常兴奋地来到妈妈跟前。
“你从没说过你要来——这儿是不是有很多好东西？——那只狮子咬死了三个人——我已经花光了我的两便士——看！”
他从口袋里掏出两只蛋形杯子，上面有粉红色蔷蔽图案。
“我是从那个摊子上赢来的，他们在那儿打弹子游戏。我打了两回就得到了这两个杯子——半便士玩一回。看，杯子上有蔷蔽花，我的这种。”
她知道他是为她选的。
“嘿！”她高兴地说，“真漂亮。”
母亲来逛集市，威廉喜出望外，他领着她四处游荡，东瞧西瞅。在看西洋景时，她把图片的内容像讲故事一样讲 给他听，他听得都入了迷，缠着她不肯离去。他满怀着一个小男孩对母亲的自豪，一直意气昂扬地跟在她身边。她戴着小黑帽，披着斗篷，向她所认识的妇女微笑示意，没有人比她更像一位贵妇人了。她终于累了，对儿子说：
“好了，你是现在就回去呢，还是再呆会儿？”
“你这就要 走啊？”他满脸不高兴地说道。
“这就走，现在都四点了。”
“你回去要干嘛呀？”他抱怨道。
“如果你不想回去，可以留下。”她说。
她带着她的小女儿慢慢地 走了，儿子站在那里翘首看着她，既舍不得放母亲回去，又不愿离开集市。当她穿过星月酒馆门前的空地时听到男人们的叫喊声，闻到啤酒味儿，心想她丈夫可能在酒馆里，于是加快脚步走了。
六点半，威廉回来了，疲惫不堪，脸色苍白，多少还有几分沮丧情绪。他心里感到一丝莫名其妙的痛苦，因为他没陪母亲一起回家，她走了以后，他在集市上再没开心地玩过。
“ 我爸爸回家了吗？”他问。
“没有。”母亲回答。
“他在星月酒馆帮忙呢，我从窗子上那个黑铁皮洞里看到的，池的袖子卷得高高的。”
“嗯，”母亲简单的应了声，“他没钱，别人或多或少给他些钱，他就满足了。”
天开始暗下来，莫瑞尔太太没法做针线活了，她站起身走到门口，到处弥漫着欢快的节日气氛，这种气氛最终还是感染了她，她情不自禁地走到旁边的花园里。女人们从集市上回来了，孩子们有的抱着一只绿腿的白羊羔，有的抱着一只木马。偶尔，也有男人走过，手里拿满了东西。有时，也有好丈夫和全家人一起悠闲地走过，但通常是女人和孩子们走在一起。暮色更浓了，那些在家围着白围裙的主妇们，端着胳膊，站在小巷尽头聊天。
莫瑞尔太太形单影只，但她对此已经习惯了。她的儿子女儿都已在楼上睡了。表面看来她的家稳固可靠，可是，一想到将要出世的孩子，她便深感不快。这个世界似乎是一个枯燥的地方，至少在威廉长大以前，她不会有别的期望。但是，对她自己来说，只能枯燥的忍耐下去——一直忍到孩子们长大。可是这么多的孩子！她养不起第三个孩子。她不想要这个孩子。当父亲的在酒馆里眼务，自己醉醺醺的，她看不起他，可又跟他联系在一起。她接受不了这个即将来临的孩子，要不是为了威廉和安妮，她早就厌倦了这种贫穷、丑恶的庸俗的生活。
她走到宅前的花园里，觉得身子沉重得迈不开步，可在屋里又没法呆下去。天气闷得让人喘不过气来。想想未来，展望前程，她觉得自己像是给人活埋了。
宅前的花园是由水蜡树围起来的小块方地。她站在那儿，尽力想把自己溶入花香和即将逝去的美丽的暮色中。在园门对面，高高的树篱下面，是上山的台阶。两旁是割过草的草坡沉浸在霞光中。天色变化迅速，霞光转眼就在田野上消失，大地和树篱都沉浸在暮霭里。夜幕降临了，山顶亮起了一簇灯光，灯光处传来散集的喧嚷声。
树篱下那条黑暗的小路上，男人们跌跌撞撞地往家走。有一个小伙子从山头陡坡上冲下来，“嘭”跌倒在石阶上，莫瑞尔大大打了个寒噤。小伙子骂骂咧咧地爬起 来，样子可怜兮兮的，好象石阶是故意伤害他。
莫瑞尔太太折身回屋，心里不知道这样的生活能否有变化。但她现在已经认识到这是不会改变的，她觉得她似乎离她的少女时代已经很远很远了，她简直不敢相信如今这个迈着沉重的步伐在河川区后园的女人，就是十年前在希尔尼斯大堤上脚步轻快的那位少女。
“这儿和我有什么关系呢？”她自言自语“这儿的一切都 和我有何相干呢？甚至这个即将来世的孩子和我又有何瓜葛呢？反正，没人来体贴我。”
有时，生活支配一个人，支配一个人的身躯，完成一个人的历程，然而这不是真正的生活，生活是任人自生自灭。
“我等待”莫瑞尔太太喃喃自语——“我等啊等，可我等待的东西永远不会来。”
她收拾完去了厨房，点着了灯，添上火，找出第二天要洗的衣服先泡上，然后，她坐下来做针线活儿，一补就是好几个小时，她的针在布料上有规律地闪着银光。偶尔，她叹口气放松一下自己，心里一直盘算着，如何为孩子们节衣缩食。
丈夫回来时，已经十一点半了。他那络腮胡子上部红光满面，向她轻轻地点了点头，一副志得意满的神气。
“(呕欠)，(呕欠)，在等我，宝贝？ 我去帮安东尼干活了，你知道他给了我多少？一点也不多，只有半克朗钱……”
“他认为其余的都算作你的啤酒钱啦。”她简短地答道。
“我没有——我没有，你相信我吧，今天我只喝了一点点，就一点儿。”他的声音温和起来.
“看，我给你带了一点白兰地姜饼，还给孩子们带了一个椰子。”他把姜饼和一个毛茸茸的椰子放在桌子上，“嘿，这辈子你还从来没有说过一声‘谢谢’呢，是么？”
仿佛为了表示歉意的回报，她拿起椰子摇了摇，看看它是否有椰子汁。
“是好的，你放心好了，我是从比尔·霍金森那里要来的。我说‘比尔，你吃不了三个椰子吧？可以送一个给我的孩子吃？’‘行，沃尔特，’他说：‘你要哪个就拿哪个吧。’我就拿了一个，还说了声谢谢。我不想在他面前摇摇椰子看好不好，不过他说，‘沃尔特，你最好看看这一个是不是好的。’所以，你看，我知道这是一个好的。他是一个好人，比尔·霍金森真是一个好人。”
“一个人喝醉时，他什么都舍得给，你们俩都喝醉了。”莫瑞尔太太说。
“嘿，你这个讨厌的臭婆娘，我倒要问问谁喝醉了？”莫瑞尔说，他洋洋得意，因为在星月酒馆帮了一天忙，就不停地嗦叨着。
莫瑞尔太太累极了，也听烦了他的废话，趁 他封炉的时候，溜上床睡觉去了。
莫瑞尔太太出身于一个古老而体面的市民家庭，祖上曾与哈钦森上校共同作战，世世代代一直是公理会虔诚的教徒。有一年，诺丁汉很多花边商破产的时候，她的做花边生意的祖父也破产了。她的父亲，乔治·科珀德是个工程师——一个高大、英俊、傲慢的人，他不但为自己的白皮肤、蓝眼睛自豪，更以他的正直为荣。格特鲁德身材像母亲一样小，但她的高傲、倔强的性格却来自科珀德家族。
"THE BOTTOMS" succeeded to "Hell Row". Hell Row was a block of thatched,bulging cottages that stood by the brookside on Greenhill Lane. There lived the colliers who worked in the little gin-pits twofields away. The brook ran under the alder trees, scarcely soiledby these small mines, whose coal was drawn to the surface bydonkeys that plodded wearily in a circle round a gin. And allover the countryside were these same pits, some of which had beenworked in the time of Charles II, the few colliers and the donkeysburrowing down like ants into the earth, making queer moundsand little black places among the corn-fields and the meadows. And the cottages of these coal-miners, in blocks and pairs hereand there, together with odd farms and homes of the stockingers,straying over the parish, formed the village of Bestwood.
Then, some sixty years ago, a sudden change took place. The gin-pits were elbowed aside by the large mines ofthe financiers. The coal and iron field of Nottinghamshire andDerbyshire was discovered. Carston, Waite and Co. appeared. Amid tremendous excitement, Lord Palmerston formally openedthe company's first mine at Spinney Park, on the edge of Sherwood Forest.
About this time the notorious Hell Row, which through growingold had acquired an evil reputation, was burned down, and much dirtwas cleansed away.
Carston, Waite & Co. found they had struck on a good thing,so, down the valleys of the brooks from Selby and Nuttall, new mineswere sunk, until soon there were six pits working. From Nuttall,high up on the sandstone among the woods, the railway ran, past theruined priory of the Carthusians and past Robin Hood's Well, down toSpinney Park, then on to Minton, a large mine among corn-fields;from Minton across the farmlands of the valleyside toBunker's Hill, branching off there, and runningnorth to Beggarlee and Selby, that looks over at Crich and the hillsof Derbyshire: six mines like black studs on the countryside,linked by a loop of fine chain, the railway.
To accommodate the regiments of miners, Carston, Waite and Co. built the Squares, great quadrangles of dwellings on the hillsideof Bestwood, and then, in the brook valley, on the site of Hell Row,they erected the Bottoms.
The Bottoms consisted of six blocks of miners' dwellings,two rows of three, like the dots on a blank-six domino, and twelvehouses in a block. This double row of dwellings sat at the footof the rather sharp slope from Bestwood, and looked out, from theattic windows at least, on the slow climb of the valley towards Selby.
The houses themselves were substantial and very decent. One could walk all round, seeing little front gardens with auriculasand saxifrage in the shadow of the bottom block, sweet-williams and pinksin the sunny top block; seeing neat front windows, little porches,little privet hedges, and dormer windows for the attics. But thatwas outside; that was the view on to the uninhabited parlours of allthe colliers' wives. The dwelling-room, the kitchen, was at the backof the house, facing inward between the blocks, looking at a scrubbyback garden, and then at the ash-pits. And between the rows,between the long lines of ash-pits, went the alley, where the childrenplayed and the women gossiped and the men smoked. So, the actualconditions of living in the Bottoms, that was so well built andthat looked so nice, were quite unsavoury because people must livein the kitchen, and the kitchens opened on to that nasty alley of ash-pits.
Mrs. Morel was not anxious to move into the Bottoms,which was already twelve years old and on the downward path,when she descended to it from Bestwood. But it was the best shecould do. Moreover, she had an end house in one of the top blocks,and thus had only one neighbour; on the other side an extra stripof garden. And, having an end house, she enjoyed a kind of aristocracyamong the other women of the "between" houses, because her rentwas five shillings and sixpence instead of five shillings a week. But this superiority in station was not much consolation to Mrs. Morel.
She was thirty-one years old, and had been married eight years.A rather small woman, of delicate mould but resolute bearing,she shrank a little from the first contact with the Bottoms women. She came down in the July, and in the September expected herthird baby.
Her husband was a miner. They had only been in their new homethree weeks when the wakes, or fair, began. Morel, she knew, was sureto make a holiday of it. He went off early on the Monday morning,the day of the fair. The two children were highly excited. William, a boy of seven, fled off immediately after breakfast,to prowl round the wakes ground, leaving Annie, who was only five,to whine all morning to go also. Mrs. Morel did her work. She scarcely knew her neighbours yet, and knew no one with whomto trust the little girl. So she promised to take her to the wakesafter dinner.
William appeared at half-past twelve. He was a very active lad,fair-haired, freckled, with a touch of the Dane or Norwegianabout him.
"Can I have my dinner, mother?" he cried, rushing in with hiscap on. "'Cause it begins at half-past one, the man says so."
"You can have your dinner as soon as it's done," replied the mother.
"Isn't it done?" he cried, his blue eyes staring at herin indignation. "Then I'm goin' be-out it."
"You'll do nothing of the sort. It will be done in five minutes. It is only half-past twelve."
"They'll be beginnin'," the boy half cried, half shouted.
"You won't die if they do," said the mother. "Besides, it'sonly half-past twelve, so you've a full hour."
The lad began hastily to lay the table, and directly the threesat down. They were eating batter-pudding and jam, when the boyjumped off his chair and stood perfectly stiff. Some distanceaway could be heard the first small braying of a merry-go-round,and the tooting of a horn. His face quivered as he looked at his mother.
"I told you!" he said, running to the dresser for his cap.
"Take your pudding in your hand--and it's only five past one,so you were wrong--you haven't got your twopence," cried the motherin a breath.
The boy came back, bitterly disappointed, for his twopence,then went off without a word.
"I want to go, I want to go," said Annie, beginning to cry.
"Well, and you shall go, whining, wizzening little stick!"said the mother. And later in the afternoon she trudged up thehill under the tall hedge with her child. The hay was gatheredfrom the fields, and cattle were turned on to the eddish. It was warm, peaceful.
Mrs. Morel did not like the wakes. There were two sets of horses,one going by steam, one pulled round by a pony; three organswere grinding, and there came odd cracks of pistol-shots, fearfulscreeching of the cocoanut man's rattle, shouts of the Aunt Sally man,screeches from the peep-show lady. The mother perceived her son gazingenraptured outside the Lion Wallace booth, at the pictures of thisfamous lion that had killed a negro and maimed for life two white men. She left him alone, and went to get Annie a spin of toffee. Presently the lad stood in front of her, wildly excited.
"You never said you was coming--isn't the' a lot of things?-that lion's killed three men-l've spent my tuppence-an' look here."
He pulled from his pocket two egg-cups, with pink moss-roseson them.
"I got these from that stall where y'ave ter get them marblesin them holes. An' I got these two in two goes-'aepenny a go-they'vegot moss-roses on, look here. I wanted these."
She knew he wanted them for her.
"H'm!" she said, pleased. "They ARE pretty!"
"Shall you carry 'em, 'cause I'm frightened o' breakin' 'em?"
He was tipful of excitement now she had come, led her aboutthe ground, showed her everything. Then, at the peep-show, sheexplained the pictures, in a sort of story, to which he listenedas if spellbound. He would not leave her. All the time hestuck close to her, bristling with a small boy's pride of her. For no other woman looked such a lady as she did, in her little blackbonnet and her cloak. She smiled when she saw women she knew. When she was tired she said to her son:
"Well, are you coming now, or later?"
"Are you goin' a'ready?" he cried, his face full of reproach.
"Already? It is past four, I know."
"What are you goin' a'ready for?" he lamented.
"You needn't come if you don't want," she said.
And she went slowly away with her little girl, whilst her sonstood watching her, cut to the heart to let her go, and yet unableto leave the wakes. As she crossed the open ground in front ofthe Moon and Stars she heard men shouting, and smelled the beer,and hurried a little, thinking her husband was probably in the bar.
At about half-past six her son came home, tired now, rather pale,and somewhat wretched. He was miserable, though he did not know it,because he had let her go alone. Since she had gone, he had notenjoyed his wakes.
"Has my dad been?" he asked.
"No," said the mother.
"He's helping to wait at the Moon and Stars. I seed him throughthat black tin stuff wi' holes in, on the window, wi' his sleevesrolled up."
"Ha!" exclaimed the mother shortly. "He's got no money. An' he'll be satisfied if he gets his 'lowance, whether theygive him more or not."
When the light was fading, and Mrs. Morel could see no more to sew,she rose and went to the door. Everywhere was the sound of excitement,the restlessness of the holiday, that at last infected her. She wentout into the side garden. Women were coming home from the wakes,the children hugging a white lamb with green legs, or a wooden horse. Occasionally a man lurched past, almost as full as he could carry. Sometimes a good husband came along with his family, peacefully. But usually the women and children were alone. The stay-at-home mothersstood gossiping at the corners of the alley, as the twilight sank,folding their arms under their white aprons.
Mrs. Morel was alone, but she was used to it. Her son and herlittle girl slept upstairs; so, it seemed, her home was there behind her,fixed and stable. But she felt wretched with the coming child. The world seemed a dreary place, where nothing else would happenfor her--at least until William grew up. But for herself,nothing but this dreary endurance--till the children grew up. And the children! She could not afford to have this third. She did not want it. The father was serving beer in a public house,swilling himself drunk. She despised him, and was tied to him. This coming child was too much for her. If it were not for Williamand Annie, she was sick of it, the struggle withpoverty and ugliness and meanness.
She went into the front garden, feeling too heavy to takeherself out, yet unable to stay indoors. The heat suffocated her. And looking ahead, the prospect of her life made her feel as if shewere buried alive.
The front garden was a small square with a privet hedge. There she stood, trying to soothe herself with the scent of flowersand the fading, beautiful evening. Opposite her small gate was thestile that led uphill, under the tall hedge between the burning glowof the cut pastures. The sky overhead throbbed and pulsed with light. The glow sank quickly off the field; the earth and the hedgessmoked dusk. As it grew dark, a ruddy glare came out on the hilltop,and out of the glare the diminished commotion of the fair.
Sometimes, down the trough of darkness formed by the pathunder the hedges, men came lurching home. One young man lapsedinto a run down the steep bit that ended the hill, and went with acrash into the stile. Mrs. Morel shuddered. He picked himself up,swearing viciously, rather pathetically, as if he thought the stilehad wanted to hurt him.
She went indoors, wondering if things were never going to alter. She was beginning by now to realise that they would not. She seemedso far away from her girlhood, she wondered if it were the sameperson walking heavily up the back garden at the Bottoms as had runso lightly up the breakwater at Sheerness ten years before.
"What have I to do with it?" she said to herself. "What haveI to do with all this? Even the child I am going to have! It doesn't seem as if I were taken into account."
Sometimes life takes hold of one, carries the body along,accomplishes one's history, and yet is not real, but leaves oneselfas it were slurred over.
"I wait," Mrs. Morel said to herself--"I wait, and what I waitfor can never come."
Then she straightened the kitchen, lit the lamp, mended the fire,looked out the washing for the next day, and put it to soak. After which she sat down to her sewing. Through the long hours herneedle flashed regularly through the stuff. Occasionally she sighed,moving to relieve herself. And all the time she was thinkinghow to make the most of what she had, for the children's sakes.
At half-past eleven her husband came. His cheeks were veryred and very shiny above his black moustache. His head nodded slightly.He was pleased with himself.
"Oh! Oh! waitin' for me, lass? I've bin 'elpin' Anthony, an'what's think he's gen me? Nowt b'r a lousy hae'f-crown, an'that's ivry penny---"
"He thinks you've made the rest up in beer," she said shortly.
"An' I 'aven't--that I 'aven't. You b'lieve me, I've 'advery little this day, I have an' all." His voice went tender. "Here, an' I browt thee a bit o' brandysnap, an' a cocoanut for th'children." He laid the gingerbread and the cocoanut, a hairy object,on the table. "Nay, tha niver said thankyer for nowt i' thy life,did ter?"
As a compromise, she picked up the cocoanut and shook it,to see if it had any milk.
"It's a good 'un, you may back yer life o' that. I got it fra'Bill Hodgkisson. 'Bill,' I says, 'tha non wants them three nuts,does ter? Arena ter for gi'ein' me one for my bit of a lad an'wench?' 'I ham, Walter, my lad,' 'e says; 'ta'e which on 'emter's a mind.' An' so I took one, an' thanked 'im. I didn'tlike ter shake it afore 'is eyes, but 'e says, 'Tha'd better ma'esure it's a good un, Walt.' An' so, yer see, I knowed it was. He's a nice chap, is Bill Hodgkisson, e's a nice chap!"
"A man will part with anything so long as he's drunk,and you're drunk along with him," said Mrs. Morel.
"Eh, tha mucky little 'ussy, who's drunk, I sh'd like ter know?"said Morel. He was extraordinarily pleased with himself,because of his day's helping to wait in the Moon and Stars. He chattered on.
Mrs. Morel, very tired, and sick of his babble, went to bedas quickly as possible, while he raked the fire.
Mrs. Morel came of a good old burgher family, famous independentswho had fought with Colonel Hutchinson, and who remained stoutCongregationalists. Her grandfather had gone bankrupt in the lace-marketat a time when so many lace-manufacturers were ruined in Nottingham. Her father, George Coppard, was an engineer--a large, handsome,haughty man, proud of his fair skin and blue eyes, but more proudstill of his integrity. Gertrude resembled her mother in her smallbuild. But her temper, proud and unyielding, she had from the Coppards.
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