cream.

Inside, a blazing peat-fire scattered capering shadows across the
smooth, stone floor, flickered among the dim rows of hams suspended from
the ceiling and on the panelled cupboards of dark, glistening oak. A
servant-girl, spreading the cloth for supper, clattered her clogs in and
out of the kitchen: old Mrs. Garstin was stooping before the hearth,
tremulously turning some girdle-cakes that lay roasting in the embers.

At the sound of Anthony's heavy tread in the passage, she rose, glancing
sharply at the clock above the chimney-piece. She was a heavy-built
woman, upright, stalwart almost, despite her years. Her face was gaunt
and sallow; deep wrinkles accentuated the hardness of her features. She
wore a black widow's cap above her iron-grey hair, gold-rimmed
spectacles, and a soiled, chequered apron.

'Ye're varra late, Tony,' she remarked querulously.

He unloosened his woollen neckerchief, and when he had hung it
methodically with his hat behind the door, answered:

''Twas terrible thick on t' fell-top, an' them two bitches be that
senseless.'

She caught his sleeve, and, through her spectacles, suspiciously
scrutinized his face.

'Ye did na meet wi' Rosa Blencarn?'

'Nay, she was in church, hymn-playin', wi' Luke Stock hangin' roond
door,' he retorted bitterly, rebuffing her with rough impatience.

She moved away, nodding sententiously to herself. They began supper:
neither spoke: Anthony sat slowly stirring his tea, and staring moodily
into the flames: the bacon on his plate lay untouched. From time to time
his mother, laying down her knife and fork, looked across at him in
unconcealed asperity, pursing her wide, ungainly mouth. At last,
abruptly setting down her cup, she broke out:

'I wonder ye hav'na mare pride, Tony. For hoo lang are ye goin' t'
continue settin' mopin' and broodin' like a seck sheep? Ye'll jest mak
yesself ill, an' then I reckon what ye'll prove satisfied. Ay, but I
wonder ye hav'na more pride.'

But he made no answer, remaining unmoved, as if he had not heard.

Presently, half to himself, without raising his eyes, he murmured:

'Luke be goin' South, Monday.'

'Well, ye canna tak' oop wi' his leavin's anyways. It hasna coom't that,
has it? Ye doan't intend settin' all t' parish a laughin' at ye a second
occasion?'

He flushed dully, and bending over his plate, mechanically began his
supper.

'Wa dang it,' he broke out a minute later, 'd'ye think I heed the
cacklin' o