'Now, theere you go!' wrenching himself round, for fear Sylvia
should carry her meekly made threat into execution. 'Ugh! ugh!' as
his limb hurt him. 'Come in, Harry, come in, and talk a bit o' sense
to me, for a've been shut up wi' women these four days, and a'm
a'most a nateral by this time. A'se bound for 't, they'll find yo'
some wark, if 't's nought but for to save their own fingers.' So Harry took off his coat, and seated himself professional-wise on
the hastily-cleared dresser, so that he might have all the light
afforded by the long, low casement window. Then he blew in his
thimble, sucked his finger, so that they might adhere tightly
together, and looked about for a subject for opening conversation,
while Sylvia and her mother might be heard opening and shutting
drawers and box-lids before they could find the articles that needed
repair, or that were required to mend each other.
'Women's well enough i' their way,' said Daniel, in a philosophizing
tone, 'but a man may have too much on 'em. Now there's me, leg-fast
these four days, and a'll make free to say to yo', a'd rather a deal
ha' been loading dung i' t' wettest weather; an' a reckon it's th'
being wi' nought but women as tires me so: they talk so foolish it
gets int' t' bones like. Now thou know'st thou'rt not called much of
a man oather, but bless yo', t' ninth part's summut to be thankful
for, after nought but women. An' yet, yo' seen, they were for
sending yo' away i' their foolishness! Well! missus, and who's to
pay for t' fettling of all them clothes?' as Bell came down with her
arms full. She was going to answer her husband meekly and literally
according to her wont, but Sylvia, already detecting the increased
cheerfulness of his tone, called out from behind her mother-'I am, feyther. I'm going for to sell my new cloak as I bought
Thursday, for the mending on your old coats and waistcoats.' 'Hearken till her,' said Daniel, chuckling. 'She's a true wench.
Three days sin' noane so full as she o' t' new cloak that now she's
fain t' sell.' 'Ay, Harry. If feyther won't pay yo' for making all these old
clothes as good as new, I'll sell my new red cloak sooner than yo'
shall go unpaid.' 'A reckon it's a bargain,' said Harry, casting sharp, professional
eyes on the heap before him, and singling out the best article as to
texture for examination and comment.
'They're all again these metal buttons,' said he. 'Silk weavers has
been petitioning Ministers t' make a law to favour silk buttons; and
I did hear tell as there were informers goin' about spyin' after
metal buttons, and as how they could haul yo' before a justice for
wearing on 'em.' 'A were wed in 'em, and a'll wear 'em to my dyin' day, or a'll wear
noane at a'. They're for making such a pack o' laws, they'll be for
meddling wi' my fashion o' sleeping next, and taxing me for ivery
snore a give. They've been after t' winders, and after t' vittle,
and after t' very saut to 't; it's dearer by hauf an' more nor it
were when a were a boy: they're a meddlesome set o' folks,
law-makers is, an' a'll niver believe King George has ought t' do
wi' 't. But mark my words; I were wed wi' brass buttons, and brass
buttons a'll wear to my death, an' if they moither me about it, a'll
wear brass buttons i' my coffin!' By this time Harry had arranged a certain course of action with Mrs
Robson, conducting the consultation and agreement by signs. His
thread was flying fast already, and the mother and daughter felt
more free to pursue their own business than they had done for
several days; for it was a good sign that Daniel had taken his pipe
out of the square hollow in the fireside wall, where he usually kept
it, and was preparing to diversify his remarks with satisfying
interludes of puffing.