‘Now mark ’ee, ’tis like this,’ the old man explained, ‘this country, when fust I know’d ’en, were a tarrable place for barley and wheat, but now, like the vules they be, they’ve a’ given it up and gone in for this dairyin’. Proper women’s work, I call it; and women be cheap in these parts, as they ought to be. I don’t say as there ban’t the apples as well.’
Sufficient unto the day was the evil thereof. Abner knew now that he could not look beyond the harvest for regular work, but harvest labour, being rare, was well paid, and by working overtime he might easily amass a little store of money. More than that, he might even prolong his employment, if he made good friends, by helping to pick the yellow apples from which thin Shropshire cider is made, but on this, he knew well, he could not count with any certainty, as the orchards were alien and few. He begged old Drew not to mention his quest to any one at Wolfpits, and the old man blinked his assent.
Next Sunday evening he said good-bye to the friends who shared in his dismissal. Munn, who had scraped together a little money, was going to Ludlow, where he would catch a train for Dulston. Mick Connor, being sick of England, as he said, was tramping north to Holyhead. Abner walked with him to the crest of hills above Clun.
‘If you’re ever in the city of Dublin,’ Mick said, ‘all you’ve got to do is to go into Nagle’s Back. Ask for the devil they call Kerry Mick, used to lodge with Mother Muldoon, and the grocer’s curate ‘ll give you a naggn’ for the love on him.’
Abner watched him swing away down the hill, with his loose-jointed, loping stride. He returned home late at night. Mary, contrary to her custom, was sitting up for him.
She sat at the table reading, and he quickly tumbled to her reason for doing so. In the midst of his farewells he had forgotten to give her his week’s wages the night before. She would not ask him for money; but she was hoping that her unusual presence would make him realise what he had forgotten. Seeing this he was tempted, for a moment, to withhold it; to wait and see what she would do, to force her into a spiritual submission; but then he remembered that the shock which he was being forced to give her would be quite enough.
‘Here’s the brass,’ he said, placing it on the table in front of her.
‘Thank you, Abner,’ she said.
‘I reckon it’s got to go a long way this week. I’ve kept none back.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.