威廉总是要保罗或安妮陪他们一起散步，这样更显得兴趣盎然。保罗确实一心一意地崇拜着“吉普赛女郎”，但实际上，母亲几乎不能原谅他对待姑娘的那股谄媚奉承劲儿。

    第二天，莉莉说：“哦，安妮，你知不知道我把皮手筒放在哪儿了？”威廉回答：“你明知道皮手筒放在你的卧室里，为什么还要问安妮？”

    莉莉却生气的一声不响地上楼去了。她把妹妹当仆人使唤，这让小伙子气愤不已。

    第三天的晚上，威廉和莉莉坐在黑暗的起居室炉火旁。十一点差一刻的时候，他们听见莫瑞尔太太在捅炉子，威廉走进厨房，后面跟着 他的莉莉。

    “已经很晚了，妈妈？”他说，她刚才一直独自坐在那儿。

    “不晚，孩子，我平常都坐到这个时候。”

    “你要 去睡觉吗？”他问。

    “留下你们俩？不，孩子，我不放心你们俩。”

    “你不相信我们，妈妈？”

    “不论 我相信不相信，我都不会那么 做的。你们高兴的话可以呆到十一点，我可以看会儿书。”

    “睡觉 去，吉普，”他对姑娘说：“我们不能让妈妈这样等着。”

    “安妮还给你留着蜡烛呢，莉莉。”莫瑞尔太太说，“我想你看得见的。”

    “是的，谢谢，晚安，莫瑞尔太太。”

     威廉在楼梯口吻了 他的宝贝，然后，她走了，他呢，又回到厨房。

    “你不相信我们，妈妈？”他又说了遍，有点不快。

    “孩子，告诉你吧，当大家都睡觉的时候，我不信任你们两个年轻人单独留在楼上。

    他只好接受了这个回答，吻了吻母亲，道了晚安。

    复活节时，他独自一人回到家，和母亲没完没了地谈论他那个宝贝。

    “你知道吗，妈妈，当我离开她的时候，我一点也不在乎她，即便再也见不到她，我也不会在乎。但是，当晚上我和她在一起的时候，我又非常喜欢她了。”

    “如果她吸引你的不过是这些的话，”莫瑞尔太太说：“那么，促使你们结婚的那种爱可太不可思议了。”

    “这是不可思议！”他大声 说，这婚姻使他烦恼不安左右为难。“但是，就我们目前的情况来说，我不能放弃她。”

    “你最清楚，”莫瑞尔太太说：“不过要是像所说的这样，我不会把这种感情看作爱情的——总之，这绝不是爱情。”

    “哦，我不知道，妈妈，她是个孤儿，而且……”

    他们从来争论不出任何结果，他似乎很为难，而且相当恼火。她显得克制而沉默。他全部的精力薪水都花在这个姑娘身上了，回家后， 他几乎没钱带母亲去一次诺丁汉。

    保罗的工资在圣诞期间升到十先令，这令他喜出望外。他在乔丹工厂干得十分愉快。但他的身体却因为长时间的工作和终日不见阳光而受到影响。他在母亲的生活中占有越来越重要的位置，因此，她千方百计地想为他调剂一下生活。

    他的半天休息日在星期一下午。在五月一个星期一的上午，只有他们俩在吃早饭。她 说：“我想今天会是一个好天。”

    他吃惊地抬头看了看她，寻思话里有什么含义。

    “你知道雷渥斯先生搬到了一个新农场去了，嗯，他上上星期还问我愿不愿 去看看雷渥斯太太，我答应他如果天气好，就带你星期—一起去，怎么样？”

    “哦，好极了，好妈妈。”他欢呼起来，“我们今天下午 去。”

    保罗兴冲冲地向车站走去。达贝路旁的一棵樱桃树在阳光下闪闪发光，群雕旁的旧砖墙被映成一片深红，春天给大地带来满眼翠绿，在公路拐弯的地方，覆盖着早晨凉爽的尘土，阳光和阴影交织而成美丽的图案，四周沉浸在一片宁静中，景色壮观迷人。树木骄傲地弯下它们宽宽的肩膀，整个早晨，保罗待在仓库里想象着外面的一派春光。

    午饭时他回来了，母亲显得很激动。

    “我们走吗？”他问。

    “我准备好就走。”她回答。

    一会儿，他站起身。

    “你去收拾打扮，我去洗碗。”他说。

    她去了。他洗了锅碗，收拾好后，拿起她的靴子。靴子很干净，莫瑞尔太太是一个生来就极讲究清洁的人，即使在泥浆时走路都不会弄脏鞋子的。但是保罗还是替她擦了一下靴子，这是一双八先令买来的小羊皮靴子，可是在他看来这是世界上最精致的靴子。他擦得小心翼翼的，仿佛它们不是靴，而是娇美的花。

    突然，她神色羞怯地出现在里屋门口，身穿一件新衬衫。保罗跳起来迎向前来。

    “噢，天哪！”他惊叹起来，“真叫人眼花缘乱！”

    她矜持地从鼻子里哼了一声，昂起了头。

    “哪里是眼花缭乱！”她回答，“这挺素净的。”

    她往前走了几步，他围着她身边转了几圈。

    “哎，”她问他，有点不好意思，但又装着矜持的样子，“你喜欢这件衬衫吗？”

    “喜欢极了！你真是位外出游玩的好女伴！”

    他在她身后上下打量着。

    “咳，”他说：“在街上，如果我走在你后面，我会说那个女人在卖弄风骚呢！”

    “不过她可没有这样。”莫瑞尔太太回答，“她还不清楚这衣服是不是适合她呢。”

    “哦，不！难道她还想穿着那种肮脏的黑颜色，看起来好像裹着一层烧焦的纸。这件衣服太适合你了，而且我认为你看起来漂亮极了。”

    她又从鼻子里哼了一下，满心的高兴，但仍装出不以为然的样子。

    “但是，”她说：“它只花了我三先令。你不可能买一件价值这么低的成衣，对吧？”

    “我的确不行。”他回答。

    “而且，你看，这材料。”

    “漂亮极了。”他说。

    这件衬衣是白色的，上面印有紫红色和黑色的小树枝样的图案。

    “不过，恐怕这件衣服对我来说太显年轻了。”她说。

    “显的太年轻了！”他生气地喊道，“那你为什么不买些假白发套在头上？”

    “不需要，我马上就会有的，”她回答说：“我的头发已经白得多了。”

    “得了，你才不会呢，”他说：“为什么我要个白头发的妈妈？”

    “恐怕你得委屈一下，孩子。”她神情古怪地 说。

    他们气气派派地出发了，为了遮阳，她带上威廉送给她的那把伞，保罗个子虽然不高，可比她要高许多，所以他自觉得象男主人似的了不起。

    休耕地上那些青青的麦苗柔和地发着光。一缕缕白色的蒸汽飘在敏顿矿井上空，矿井里传来沙哑的“咳咳”声。

    “看那边，”莫瑞尔太太说。母子俩站在路上望着，沿着大矿山的山脊，天边有几个影子在慢吞吞地挪动着，是一匹马，一辆小货车和一个男人。他们正往斜坡上爬，头似乎都挨着了天。最后，那个男人把货车倒立，垃圾从大矿坑的陡坡上滚了下去，发出一阵响声。

    “你坐一会吧，妈妈。”他说。她在堤上坐了下来，他则迅速地画起素描来。她默默地欣赏周围的午后景色，看着那在绿色树林掩隐着的红色农舍，在太阳光下闪烁。

    “世界真奇妙，”她赞道，“太美了。”

     “矿井也一样，”他说，“看，它们高高耸起，简直像活的什么东西——叫不上名字的庞然大物。”

    “是的，”她说。“可能有些像。”

    “还有那么多卡车停在那等着，就像一群等着喂食的牲口。”他说。

    “感谢上帝，它们停在那儿，”她 说，“这就意味着这个星期还能挣点钱。”

    “不 过，我喜欢从东西的运动中去体味人的感觉。从卡车上就可以体味到人的感觉，因为人的手操纵过它们。”

     “是的，”莫瑞尔太太说。

    他们沿着道旁的树荫行进着。他滔滔不绝地对她说着，她津津有味的听着。他们走到尼瑟梅尔河尽头，阳光像花瓣一样轻轻撒在山坳里。然后， 他们又转向一条僻静的路，一只狗气势汹汹地吠叫着。一个女人张望着迎了出来。

    “这是不是去威利农场的路？”莫瑞尔太太问。

    保罗害怕别人冷遇他们，躲在母亲后面。但这个女人十分和蔼，给他们指了方向。母子俩穿过小麦地和燕麦地，跨越一座小桥，来到一片荒野地里。那些白色胸脯的发着光的红嘴鸥，尖叫着绕着他们盘旋，蓝蓝的湖水一泓宁静，高空中一只苍鹭飞过，对面树林覆盖的小山，也是一片寂静。

    “这是一条荒路，妈妈。”保罗说：“就像在加拿大。”

    “这很美，不是吗？”莫瑞尔太太说着，了望着四周。

    “看那只苍鹭——看——看见它的腿了吗？”

    他指点着母亲什么应该看一看，什么用不着看。她十分乐意让儿子指指点点。

    “但是现在，我们应该走哪条路呢？”她问：“他告诉我应该穿过一片树林。”

     这片树林就在他们左边。用篱笆圈着，显得黑沉沉的。

    “我觉得这儿可能会有条小路，”保罗 说：“不管怎么说，你好像只习惯 走城里的路。”

    他们找到一扇小门，进去不久就踏上了一条宽宽的翠绿的林间小路。路的一旁是新生的杉树和松树。另一旁是长着老橡树的很陡的林间空地，橡树间，一片绿色蓝色池水般的风珍草，长在落满了橡树叶的浅黄褐色的土地上，长在长满了新枝的榛树下。他为她采了几朵勿忘我。看见她那双辛勤劳作的手举着他给她的那一小束花，他又一次心里充满了怜爱，而她也欣喜得不能自己。

    在这条路的尽头，需要爬过一道栅栏。保罗毫不费力的一下子跳过去了。

    “快来，”他说，“我帮你。”

    “不用， 走开，我自己行。”

    他站在下边，伸出双臂准备帮她，她小心翼翼地翻了过来。

    “看你翻的那副样子！”当她安然着地后，他大声笑着。

    “讨厌的台阶！”她骂了一句。

    “没用的小女人，”他回答道，“连这都翻不过来。”

    前面，就在这片树林边上，有一片红色的低矮的农场建筑。俩人赶紧向前走去。旁边就是苹果园，苹果花纷纷扬扬地落到磨石上。树篱下有个很深的池塘。被几棵棕树掩隐起来，树荫下有几头母牛。农场的房屋有三面都冲着阳光，宁静极了。

    母子俩走进了这个有篱笆栏杆的小院子，院里飘散着一股红紫罗兰的幽香。几只面包放在敞开的门口旁边凉着，一只母鸡飞过来啄面包，一个围着脏围裙的女孩子突然出现在门口，她大约十四岁，脸蛋黑里透红，短短的黑卷发自然地飘落着，美极了。一双黑眼睛对着进 来的陌生人害羞、疑惑，还略带惊奇地望着，她又躲进 去了。不一会，又出来一个瘦弱的矮个女人，红润的脸庞，有一对深棕色的大眼睛。

    “噢！”她微笑着惊呼起来，“你们来了，哦，我很高兴看见你们。”她的声音很亲热，却略带感伤。

    两个女人握了握手。

    “我们真的不会打扰你吗？”莫瑞尔太太说，“我知道农场生活非常忙。”

    “哦，哪里话，能 看到一张新面孔我们就感激不尽了，我们这里几乎没有人来。”

    “我也这么想。”莫瑞尔太太说。

    他们被带到会客室——一间又长又低的屋子，壁炉边上插着一大束绣球花。保罗趁她们两个聊天的时候，到外面看了 看田园景色。他站在院子里闻着花香，看着那些农作物，那个女孩子又匆匆出来，往篱笆边上的煤堆走去。

    他指着栅栏边的灌木丛对她说，“我觉得这是重瓣蔷薇吧？”

    她用那双受惊的棕色大眼睛望着他。

    “我想这花开了该是重瓣蔷薇吧？”他说。

    “我不知道，”她支支吾吾地说，“它们是白色的，中间是粉红色的。”

    “那就是女儿红了。”

    米丽亚姆脸色通红，是那种美丽动人的颜色。

    “我不知道。”她说。

    “你家的院子里也不太多。”他说。

    “我们今年才住到这儿的。”她回答道，有些疏远和高傲。说着，她退了几步进屋去了。他也没在意，继续四处逛着。一会儿，他母亲出来了，他们一起参观着这里的建筑，这让保罗乐不可支。

    “我想，你们还养着家禽、小牛或猪啊什么的吧？”莫瑞尔大大问着雷渥斯太太。

    “没有，”那个小个子女人说，“我没时间喂养牛，而且我也不习惯干这活，我所能干的就是管家。”

    “哦，我想也是。”莫瑞尔太太说。

    一会儿，那个女孩子又跑了出来。

    “茶准备好了，妈妈。”她地声音平静，像音乐一般动听。

    “哦，谢谢你，米丽亚姆，我们马上就来。”她妈妈回答，几乎有点讨好的意味。“现在我们去喝茶行吗，莫瑞尔太太？”

    “当然可以，”莫瑞尔太太说，“什么时候都行。”

    保罗、妈妈，还有雷渥斯太太一起喝了茶。之后他们 来到了树林，那里满山遍野风信子。小路上密密麻麻的全是毋忘我，母子俩都深深地被吸引住了。

    当他们回到屋子里的时候，雷渥斯先生和大儿子埃德加已经在厨房里了。埃德加大约十八岁。接着杰弗里和莫里斯，一个十二岁，一个十三岁，从学校回来了。雷渥斯先生是位英俊的中年男子，留着金褐色的小胡子，一双蓝眼睛总是像在提防什么似的眯着。

    William always wanted Paul or Annie to go along with themon their walks. It was so much more interesting. And Paul reallyDID admire "Gipsy" wholeheartedly; in fact, his mother scarcelyforgave the boy for the adulation with which he treated the girl.
　　On the second day, when Lily said: "Oh, Annie, do you knowwhere I left my muff?" William replied:
　　"You know it is in your bedroom. Why do you ask Annie?"
　　And Lily went upstairs with a cross, shut mouth. But itangered the young man that she made a servant of his sister.
　　On the third evening William and Lily were sitting togetherin the parlour by the fire in the dark. At a quarter to elevenMrs. Morel was heard raking the fire. William came out to the kitchen,followed by his beloved.
　　"Is it as late as that, mother?" he said. She had beensitting alone.
　　"It is not LATE, my boy, but it is as late as I usually sit up."
　　"Won't you go to bed, then?" he asked.
　　"And leave you two? No, my boy, I don't believe in it."
　　"Can't you trust us, mother?"
　　"Whether I can or not, I won't do it. You can stay till elevenif you like, and I can read."
　　"Go to bed, Gyp," he said to his girl. "We won't keepmater waiting."
　　"Annie has left the candle burning, Lily," said Mrs. Morel;"I think you will see."
　　"Yes, thank you. Good-night, Mrs. Morel."
　　William kissed his sweetheart at the foot of the stairs,and she went. He returned to the kitchen.
　　"Can't you trust us, mother?" he repeated, rather offended.
　　"My boy, I tell you I don't BELIEVE in leaving two youngthings like you alone downstairs when everyone else is in bed."
　　And he was forced to take this answer. He kissed his mothergood-night.
　　At Easter he came over alone. And then he discussed hissweetheart endlessly with his mother.
　　"You know, mother, when I'm away from her I don't care for hera bit. I shouldn't care if I never saw her again. But, then,when I'm with her in the evenings I am awfully fond of her."
　　"It's a queer sort of love to marry on," said Mrs. Morel,"if she holds you no more than that!"
　　"It IS funny!" he exclaimed. It worried and perplexed him. "But yet--there's so much between us now I couldn't give her up."
　　"You know best," said Mrs. Morel. "But if it is as you say, Iwouldn't call it LOVE--at any rate, it doesn't look much like it."
　　"Oh, I don't know, mother. She's an orphan, and---"
　　They never came to any sort of conclusion. He seemed puzzledand rather fretted. She was rather reserved. All his strengthand money went in keeping this girl. He could scarcely affordto take his mother to Nottingham when he came over.
　　Paul's wages had been raised at Christmas to ten shillings,to his great joy. He was quite happy at Jordan's, but his healthsuffered from the long hours and the confinement. His mother,to whom he became more and more significant, thought how to help.
　　His half-day holiday was on Monday afternoon. On a Mondaymorning in May, as the two sat alone at breakfast, she said:
　　"I think it will be a fine day."
　　He looked up in surprise. This meant something.
　　"You know Mr. Leivers has gone to live on a new farm. Well, he asked me last week if I wouldn't go and see Mrs. Leivers,and I promised to bring you on Monday if it's fine. Shall we go?"
　　"I say, little woman, how lovely!" he cried. "And we'll gothis afternoon?"

    Paul hurried off to the station jubilant. Down Derby Roadwas a cherry-tree that glistened. The old brick wall by theStatutes ground burned scarlet, spring was a very flame of green. And the steep swoop of highroad lay, in its cool morning dust,splendid with patterns of sunshine and shadow, perfectly still. The trees sloped their great green shoulders proudly; and insidethe warehouse all the morning, the boy hada vision of spring outside.
　　When he came home at dinner-time his mother was rather excited.
　　"Are we going?" he asked.
　　"When I'm ready," she replied.
　　Presently he got up.
　　"Go and get dressed while I wash up," he said.
　　She did so. He washed the pots, straightened, and then tookher boots. They were quite clean. Mrs. Morel was one of those naturallyexquisite people who can walk in mud without dirtying their shoes. But Paul had to clean them for her. They were kid boots at eightshillings a pair. He, however, thought them the most dainty bootsin the world, and he cleaned them with as much reverence as if theyhad been flowers.
　　Suddenly she appeared in the inner doorway rather shyly. She had got a new cotton blouse on. Paul jumped up and went forward.
　　"Oh, my stars!" he exclaimed. "What a bobby-dazzler!"
　　She sniffed in a little haughty way, and put her head up.
　　"It's not a bobby-dazzler at all!" she replied. "It's very quiet."
　　She walked forward, whilst he hovered round her.
　　"Well," she asked, quite shy, but pretending to be highand mighty, "do you like it?"
　　"Awfully! You ARE a fine little woman to go jaunting out with!"
　　He went and surveyed her from the back.
　　"Well," he said, "if I was walking down the street behind you,I should say: 'Doesn't THAT little person fancy herself!"'
　　"Well, she doesn't," replied Mrs. Morel. "She's not sure itsuits her."
　　"Oh no! she wants to be in dirty black, looking as if she waswrapped in burnt paper. It DOES suit you, and I say you look nice."
　　She sniffed in her little way, pleased, but pretendingto know better.
　　"Well," she said, "it's cost me just three shillings. You couldn't have got it ready-made for that price, could you?"
　　"I should think you couldn't," he replied.
　　"And, you know, it's good stuff."
　　"Awfully pretty," he said.
　　The blouse was white, with a little sprig of heliotrope and black.
　　"Too young for me, though, I'm afraid," she said.
　　"Too young for you!" he exclaimed in disgust. "Why don't youbuy some false white hair and stick it on your head."
　　"I s'll soon have no need," she replied. "I'm going whitefast enough."
　　"Well, you've no business to," he said. "What do I wantwith a white-haired mother?"
　　"I'm afraid you'll have to put up with one, my lad," she saidrather strangely.
　　They set off in great style, she carrying the umbrella Williamhad given her, because of the sun. Paul was considerably tallerthan she, though he was not big. He fancied himself.
　　On the fallow land the young wheat shone silkily. Minton pitwaved its plumes of white steam, coughed, and rattled hoarsely.
　　"Now look at that!" said Mrs. Morel. Mother and son stood onthe road to watch. Along the ridge of the great pit-hill crawleda little group in silhouette against the sky, a horse, a small truck,and a man. They climbed the incline against the heavens. At the end the man tipped the wagon. There was an undue rattleas the waste fell down the sheer slope of the enormous bank.
　　"You sit a minute, mother," he said, and she took a seat ona bank, whilst he sketched rapidly. She was silent whilst he worked,looking round at the afternoon, the red cottages shining amongtheir greenness.
　　"The world is a wonderful place," she said, "and wonderfullybeautiful."
　　"And so's the pit," he said. "Look how it heaps together,like something alive almost--a big creature that you don't know."
　　"Yes," she said. "Perhaps!"
　　"And all the trucks standing waiting, like a string of beaststo be fed," he said.
　　"And very thankful I am they ARE standing," she said,"for that means they'll turn middling time this week."
　　"But I like the feel of MEN on things, while they're alive. There's a feel of men about trucks, because they've been handledwith men's hands, all of them."
　　"Yes," said Mrs. Morel.
　　They went along under the trees of the highroad. He wasconstantly informing her, but she was interested. They passedthe end of Nethermere, that was tossing its sunshine like petals lightlyin its lap. Then they turned on a private road, and in sometrepidation approached a big farm. A dog barked furiously. A woman came out to see.
　　"Is this the way to Willey Farm?" Mrs. Morel asked.
　　Paul hung behind in terror of being sent back. But the womanwas amiable, and directed them. The mother and son went throughthe wheat and oats, over a little bridge into a wild meadow. Peewits, with their white breasts glistening, wheeled and screamedabout them. The lake was still and blue. High overheada heron floated. Opposite, the wood heaped on the hill, green and still.
　　"It's a wild road, mother," said Paul. "Just like Canada."
　　"Isn't it beautiful!" said Mrs. Morel, looking round.
　　"See that heron--see--see her legs?"
　　He directed his mother, what she must see and what not. And she was quite content.
　　"But now," she said, "which way? He told me through the wood."
　　The wood, fenced and dark, lay on their left.
　　"I can feel a bit of a path this road," said Paul. "You've gottown feet, somehow or other, you have."
　　They found a little gate, and soon were in a broad greenalley of the wood, with a new thicket of fir and pine on one hand,an old oak glade dipping down on the other. And among the oaksthe bluebells stood in pools of azure, under the new green hazels,upon a pale fawn floor of oak-leaves. He found flowers for her.
　　"Here's a bit of new-mown hay," he said; then, again, he broughther forget-me-nots. And, again, his heart hurt with love, seeing her hand,used with work, holding the little bunch of flowers he gave her. She was perfectly happy.
　　But at the end of the riding was a fence to climb. Paul wasover in a second.
　　"Come," he said, "let me help you."
　　"No, go away. I will do it in my own way."
　　He stood below with his hands up ready to help her. She climbed cautiously.
　　"What a way to climb!" he exclaimed scornfully, when shewas safely to earth again.
　　"Hateful stiles!" she cried.
　　"Duffer of a little woman," he replied, "who can't get over 'em."
　　In front, along the edge of the wood, was a cluster of low redfarm buildings. The two hastened forward. Flush with the woodwas the apple orchard, where blossom was falling on the grindstone. The pond was deep under a hedge and overhanging oak trees. Some cows stood in the shade. The farm and buildings, three sidesof a quadrangle, embraced the sunshine towards the wood. It wasvery still.
　　Mother and son went into the small railed garden, where wasa scent of red gillivers. By the open door were some floury loaves,put out to cool. A hen was just coming to peck them. Then, in thedoorway suddenly appeared a girl in a dirty apron. She was aboutfourteen years old, had a rosy dark face, a bunch of short black curls,very fine and free, and dark eyes; shy, questioning, a littleresentful of the strangers, she disappeared. In a minute anotherfigure appeared, a small, frail woman, rosy, with great dark brown eyes.
　　"Oh!" she exclaimed, smiling with a little glow, "you've come,then. I AM glad to see you." Her voice was intimate and rather sad.
　　The two women shook hands.
　　"Now are you sure we're not a bother to you?" said Mrs. Morel. "I know what a farming life is."
　　"Oh no! We're only too thankful to see a new face, it's solost up here."
　　"I suppose so," said Mrs. Morel.
　　They were taken through into the parlour--a long, low room,with a great bunch of guelder-roses in the fireplace. There thewomen talked, whilst Paul went out to survey the land. He wasin the garden smelling the gillivers and looking at the plants,when the girl came out quickly to the heap of coal which stoodby the fence.
　　"I suppose these are cabbage-roses?" he said to her,pointing to the bushes along the fence.
　　She looked at him with startled, big brown eyes.
　　"I suppose they are cabbage-roses when they come out?"he said.
　　"I don't know," she faltered. "They're white with pink middles."
　　"Then they're maiden-blush."
　　Miriam flushed. She had a beautiful warm colouring.
　　"I don't know," she said.
　　"You don't have MUCH in your garden," he said.
　　"This is our first year here," she answered, in a distant,rather superior way, drawing back and going indoors. He did not notice,but went his round of exploration. Presently his mother came out,and they went through the buildings. Paul was hugely delighted.
　　"And I suppose you have the fowls and calves and pigsto look after?" said Mrs. Morel to Mrs. Leivers.
　　"No," replied the little woman. "I can't find time to lookafter cattle, and I'm not used to it. It's as much as I cando to keep going in the house."
　　"Well, I suppose it is," said Mrs. Morel.
　　Presently the girl came out.
　　"Tea is ready, mother," she said in a musical, quiet voice.
　　"Oh, thank you, Miriam, then we'll come," replied her mother,almost ingratiatingly. "Would you CARE to have tea now, Mrs. Morel?"
　　"Of course," said Mrs. Morel. "Whenever it's ready."
　　Paul and his mother and Mrs. Leivers had tea together. Then they went out into the wood that was flooded with bluebells,while fumy forget-me-nots were in the paths. The mother and son werein ecstasy together.
　　When they got back to the house, Mr. Leivers and Edgar,the eldest son, were in the kitchen. Edgar was about eighteen. Then Geoffrey and Maurice, big lads of twelve and thirteen, were infrom school. Mr. Leivers was a good-looking man in the prime of life,with a golden-brown moustache, and blue eyes screwed up againstthe weather.