He finished his supper and went out of the kitchen. Harry and his mother sat for a moment or two in silence.
"He always wur queer about Boarzell," said Mrs. Backfield at last; "you remember that time years ago when he got mixed up wud the riot? I said to his fäather then as I was sure Ben 'ud want to do something crazy wud the farm. But I never thought he'd so soon be mäaster," and a tear trickled over her smooth cheek.
"I döan't see no harm in his buying a bit of Boarzell if it's going cheap—but it äun't worth mäaking all ourselves uncomfortable for it."
"No. Howsumdever, we can't stand agäunst him—the pläace is his'n, and he can do wot he likes."
"Hush—listen!" said Harry.
The sound of voices came from the passage outside the kitchen. Reuben was talking to the girl. A word or two reached them.
"Durn! if he äun't getting shut of her!"
"I never said as I'd do her work."
Harry sprang to his feet, but his mother laid her hand on his arm.
"Döan't you go vrothering him, lad. It'll only set him agäunst you, and I döan't care, not really; there'll be unaccountable liddle work to do in the house now your poor fäather's gone, and Blackman wöan't be eating wud us. Besides, as he said, I'll find the days a bit slow wud naun to occupy me."