Chapter 2 - Page 2

snap-bag. He filled his
tin bottle with tea. Cold tea without milk or sugar was the drink
he preferred for the pit. Then he pulled off his shirt, and put
on his pit-singlet, a vest of thick flannel cut low round the neck,
and with short sleeves like a chemise.

Then he went upstairs to his wife with a cup of tea because she
was ill, and because it occurred to him.

"I've brought thee a cup o' tea, lass," he said.

"Well, you needn't, for you know I don't like it," she replied.

"Drink it up; it'll pop thee off to sleep again."

She accepted the tea. It pleased him to see her take it
and sip it.

"I'll back my life there's no sugar in," she said.

"Yi--there's one big 'un," he replied, injured.

"It's a wonder," she said, sipping again.

She had a winsome face when her hair was loose. He loved her
to grumble at him in this manner. He looked at her again, and went,
without any sort of leave-taking. He never took more than two slices
of bread and butter to eat in the pit, so an apple or an orange was
a treat to him. He always liked it when she put one out for him.
He tied a scarf round his neck, put on his great, heavy boots, his coat,
with the big pocket, that carried his snap-bag and his bottle of tea,
and went forth into the fresh morning air, closing, without locking,
the door behind him. He loved the early morning, and the walk across
the fields. So he appeared at the pit-top, often with a stalk
from the hedge between his teeth, which he chewed all day to keep
his mouth moist, down the mine, feeling quite as happy as when he
was in the field.

Later, when the time for the baby grew nearer, he would
bustle round in his slovenly fashion, poking out the ashes,
rubbing the fireplace, sweeping the house before he went to work.
Then, feeling very self-righteous, he went upstairs.

"Now I'm cleaned up for thee: tha's no 'casions ter stir
a peg all day, but sit and read thy books."

Which made her laugh, in spite of her indignation.

"And the dinner cooks itself?" she answered.

"Eh, I know nowt about th' dinner."

"You'd know if there weren't any."

"Ay, 'appen so," he answered, departing.

When she got downstairs, she would find the house tidy,
but dirty. She could not rest until she had thoroughly cleaned;
so she went down to the ash-pit with her dustpan. Mrs. Kirk,
spying her, would contrive to have to go to her own coal-place at
that minute. Then, across the wooden fence, she would call:

"So you keep wagging on, then?"

"Ay," answered Mrs. Morel deprecatingly. "There's nothing
else for it."

"Have you seen Hose?" called a very small woman from across
the road. It was Mrs. Anthony, a