"Has he?" she answered weariedly.
The old collier came rather frightened into the bedroom.
"How dun I find thee, lass?" he said, going forward and kissing her in a hasty, timid fashion.
"Well, I'm middlin'," she replied.
"I see tha art," he said. He stood looking down on her. Then he wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. Helpless, and as if nobody owned him, he looked.
"Have you gone on all right?" asked the wife, rather wearily, as if it were an effort to talk to him.
"Yis," he answered. "'Er's a bit behint-hand now and again, as yer might expect."
"Does she have your dinner ready?" asked Mrs. Morel.
"Well, I've 'ad to shout at 'er once or twice," he said.
"And you must shout at her if she's not ready. She will leave things to the last minute."