William nodded in assent, on his way to the common towel.
'Do you think you be deserving any?'
'Does Rhys be deserving any?'
Ales had a proverb ready, 'Who does well, deserves well.'
'Is it doing well to call names and be striking his brother?'
Ales had no direct answer to that. 'Rhys says you are idle and should be made to work. You do be playing with stones when you should be weeding or knitting. He does always be working hard,' she replied evasively.
Prompt was the retort, 'A big man should work, I will do better work than Rhys when I am as big. 'Deed I will.'
This conversation had taken place during the hasty ablutions of Ales, who had latterly grown uncommonly anxious to present 'a shining morning face' to Evan when he appeared. As she combed out her hair at the diminutive looking-glass he had bought her, as a hint, and which hung beside the storehouse door, she began in an insinuating tone—
'And where did you be going yesterday, Willem? Did you be with Robert Jones?'
'Never be you minding,' said the boy, walking past with a pitcher of water for the porridge. And no further information could she or any one else extract from him.