"You're never cold, Mrs. Chapman!" she said. "That must be a goose walkin' over your grave."
"Likely as not," said Annie, answering in the same vein; "there are plenty on 'em about."
The girl laughed. She was a nice, bright, curly-haired, freckly girl. She looked kindly at Annie, and held out her arms for the baby.
"I don't believe you half like your husband takin' on with my father," she said.
"How do you know?" asked Annie, rather sharply for her.
"Why, Chapman told fayther so. He said you was rare put about when he told you, and if it weren't that he think that's only duin' what he oughter, he'd ha' chucked the job long ago. But he would not go back on fayther, he say, after he've giv his word; and he's a good man, he is," she added warmly. "Fayther he think a lot o' him. He's a good un to work, he say, and a good mate tew, and fayther don't say that a' ivrybody, I can tell yew."
Annie felt pleased. It is always pleasant to hear nice things, of course, about those we love, and Annie was generally so busy muddling along with her household and children all day that she had very little time for gossiping or exchanging many words with her neighbours; and she scarcely knew how her Tom stood amongst his fellows, for he was quiet and unobtrusive, and was not a man to make many friends.
"He think a lot a' your father too," she answered, giving tit for tat with truth.
"I wish they'd come up," Annie said at last. "If they're not quick I'll have to go back without seein' Tom."
"Why don't you put your head over and call down to him?" said the girl.