t once sharply and
decisively, that he did not mean to have a wife, leastways not till he
had got his regular 30s. a week, which he might in time. Then John Smith
made a noise in his chest like a grunt.

They parted after this. Smith went into the farmhouse, and got his pint
of beer, drinking it in one long slow draught, and then made his way
through the scattered village to his cottage. There was a frown on his
forehead as he lifted the latch of the long low thatched building which
was his home.

The flickering light of the fire on the hearth, throwing great shadows
as it blazed up and fell, dazed his eyes as he stepped in, and he did
not notice a line stretched right across the room on which small
articles of clothing were hanging to dry in a row. A damp worsted
stocking flapped against his face, and his foot stumbled on the uneven
flag stones which formed the floor. He sat down silently upon a
three-legged stool--an old milking-stool--and, putting his hands on his
knees, stared into the fire. It was formed of a few sticks with just one
knob of coal balanced on the top of them, evident care having been
taken that not a jot of its precious heat should be lost. A great black
pot with open lid swung over it, from which rose a slight steam and a
bubbling noise; and this huge, gaunt, bareboned, hungry man, looking
into it, saw a large raw swede, just as from the field, with only the
greens cut off, simmering for his supper. That root in its day of life
had been fed well with superphosphate, and flourished exceedingly, till
now its globe could hardly go into the pot. Down the low chimney there
came the monotonous growl of the bitter winter wind, and a few spots of
rain fell hissing on the embers.

"Is this all thee has got?" he asked, turning to a woman who was busied
with some more damp clothes in a basket.

She faced round quickly--a short, narrow, meagre creature, flat-chested
and square-shouldered, whose face was the hue of light-coloured clay, an
almost corpse-like complexion. Her thin lips hissed out, "Ay, if thee
takes thee money to the pothouse thee won't get bacon for supper."

Smith said nothing in reply, but stared again into the fire.

The children's voices, which had lowered the moment there seemed a
coming quarrel between their parents, rose again. There were three of
them--the youngest four, the eldest seven--playing on the stone flags of
the floor, between whose rough edges there were wide crevices of