far corner, eating cold
broad beans out of a large dish with his pocket-knife, and finding
a flavour in them which he would not have exchanged for the finest
pineapple.

"What a time that gell is drawing th' ale, to be sure!" said Mrs.
Poyser, when she was dispensing her slices of stuffed chine. "I think
she sets the jug under and forgets to turn the tap, as there's nothing
you can't believe o' them wenches: they'll set the empty kettle o' the
fire, and then come an hour after to see if the water boils."

"She's drawin' for the men too," said Mr. Poyser. "Thee shouldst ha'
told her to bring our jug up first."

"Told her?" said Mrs. Poyser. "Yes, I might spend all the wind i' my
body, an' take the bellows too, if I was to tell them gells everything
as their own sharpness wonna tell 'em. Mr. Bede, will you take some
vinegar with your lettuce? Aye you're i' the right not. It spoils the
flavour o' the chine, to my thinking. It's poor eating where the flavour
o' the meat lies i' the cruets. There's folks as make bad butter and
trusten to the salt t' hide it."

Mrs. Poyser's attention was here diverted by the appearance of Molly,
carrying a large jug, two small mugs, and four drinking-cans, all full
of ale or small beer--an interesting example of the prehensile power
possessed by the human hand. Poor Molly's mouth was rather wider open
than usual, as she walked along with her eyes fixed on the double
cluster of vessels in her hands, quite innocent of the expression in her
mistress's eye.

"Molly, I niver knew your equils--to think o' your poor mother as is
a widow, an' I took you wi' as good as no character, an' the times an'
times I've told you...."

Molly had not seen the lightning, and the thunder shook her nerves the
more for the want of that preparation. With a vague alarmed sense that
she must somehow comport herself differently, she hastened her step
a little towards the far deal table, where she might set down her
cans--caught her foot in her apron, which had become untied, and fell
with a crash and a splash into a pool of beer; whereupon a tittering
explosion from Marty and Tommy, and a serious "Ello!" from Mr. Poyser,
who saw his draught of ale unpleasantly deferred.

"There you go!" resumed Mrs. Poyser, in a cutting tone, as she rose and
went towards the cupboard while Molly began dolefully to pick up the
fragments of pottery. "It's what I told you 'ud come, over and over
again; and there's your month's wa