Mrs Old stopped laughing.
“Ye was always a careful man, an’ very knowledgeable about pigs,” she observed, thoughtfully.
Jess, encouraged by these words of commendation, proceeded to lay down certain rules of diet appropriate to lady pigs, and Mrs Old listened in silence, nodding now and then.
At the conclusion of his harangue she ordered Bill sharply to go back for the barley-meal, and desired her daughters to give over gigglin’ and glenin’ and get on wi’ their work; then, meditatively wiping her hands on her apron, she strolled towards Domeny.
“’Tis a pity, Jess, ye don’t have so much sense for yourself as ye do have for the dumb beasts. B’ain’t ye tired o’ bein’ on strike?”
Jess looked round him cautiously, and then back at her shrewd, kindly face.
“Well, mum,” he said, with the faintest dawning of a sheepish grin upon his face, “I won’t say but what—well, I don’t know.”
“I’ve been a-talkin’ for your missus,” continued Mrs Old.
“Oh, and have ye, ma’am?” said Jess doubtfully.
“Ees,” said Mrs Collins. “I d’ ’low she’s tired of it poor soul, if you b’ain’t.”