ntinually, with those infernal eyes?
Down with them! and don't remind me of your existence again. I thought I
had cured you of laughing.'

'It was me,' muttered Hareton.

'What do you say?' demanded the master.

Hareton looked at his plate, and did not repeat the confession. Mr.
Heathcliff looked at him a bit, and then silently resumed his breakfast
and his interrupted musing. We had nearly finished, and the two young
people prudently shifted wider asunder, so I anticipated no further
disturbance during that sitting: when Joseph appeared at the door,
revealing by his quivering lip and furious eyes that the outrage
committed on his precious shrubs was detected. He must have seen Cathy
and her cousin about the spot before he examined it, for while his jaws
worked like those of a cow chewing its cud, and rendered his speech
difficult to understand, he began:--

'I mun hev' my wage, and I mun goa! I _hed_ aimed to dee wheare I'd
sarved fur sixty year; and I thowt I'd lug my books up into t' garret,
and all my bits o' stuff, and they sud hev' t' kitchen to theirseln; for
t' sake o' quietness. It wur hard to gie up my awn hearthstun, but I
thowt I _could_ do that! But nah, shoo's taan my garden fro' me, and by
th' heart, maister, I cannot stand it! Yah may bend to th' yoak an ye
will--I noan used to 't, and an old man doesn't sooin get used to new
barthens. I'd rayther arn my bite an' my sup wi' a hammer in th' road!'

'Now, now, idiot!' interrupted Heathcliff, 'cut it short! What's your
grievance? I'll interfere in no quarrels between you and Nelly. She may
thrust you into the coal-hole for anything I care.'

'It's noan Nelly!' answered Joseph. 'I sudn't shift for Nelly--nasty ill
nowt as shoo is. Thank God! _shoo_ cannot stale t' sowl o' nob'dy! Shoo
wer niver soa handsome, but what a body mud look at her 'bout winking.
It's yon flaysome, graceless quean, that's witched our lad, wi' her bold
een and her forrard ways--till--Nay! it fair brusts my heart! He's
forgotten all I've done for him, and made on him, and goan and riven up a
whole row o' t' grandest currant-trees i' t' garden!' and here he
lamented outright; unmanned by a sense of his bitter injuries, and
Earnshaw's ingratitude and dangerous condition.

'Is the fool drunk?' asked Mr. Heathcliff. 'Hareton, is it you he's
finding fault with?'

'I've pulled up two or three bushes,' replied the young man; 'but I'm
going to set 'em again.'

'And