By this time she was at the other end of the common print-covered couch on which I lay and unlacing my boots, which she drew off.
“There, now thou’lt be easy, my lad. What would thy poor moother say if she saw thee this how?”
I wanted to thank her, but I was too dreamy and exhausted to speak; but I had a strange feeling of dread, and that was, that if I were left alone with Gentles he would, out of revenge, lay hold of me and throw me into the dam, and to strengthen my fancy I saw him keep turning his head in a furtive way to glance at me.
“Here,” exclaimed the woman sharply, “take these here boots out to the back, mester, and clean ’em while I brush his coat.”
“Eh?” said Gentles.
“Tak them boots out and brush ’em. Are yo’ deaf?”
“Nay, I’m not going to clean his boots,” growled Gentles.
“Not going to clean the bairn’s boots!” said the woman sharply; “but I think thou art.”
She left me, went to the door, took Gentles’ pipe from his mouth, and then thrust the boots under his arm, laying a great hand upon his shoulder directly after, and seeming to lead him to a door behind me, through which she pushed him, with an order to make haste.
“Yes,” she said, tightening her lips, and smiling, as she nodded to me, “I’m mester here, and they hev to mind. Was it thou as set the big trap ketched my mester by the leg?”