"That a' wull," responded Joe. "Coome along, Dolly, an' speak to my missus. The dinner will be 'a waiting, an' times money here. Mother can't ye's drink a pint o' yell an pick a bit o' bacon?"
The sick woman shook her head, with an air of disgust.
"Dolly will bring me a glass of cowslip wine and a bit of dry toast. I don't feel like eating yet."
"Dang yer cowslip wine," quoth Joe, "it's poor trash, the yell would do a' more good."
"It's bad for the bile, Joe. This ague makes a body very squeamish. But go to your dinner, children, and don't keep the men waiting. Dorothy, you can attend to me by and by."
Dorothy smoothed her black locks, which the wind and her quick walking had scattered over her face, and followed her jolly conductor down to the kitchen.
The homely but substantial dinner was smoking on the table, and Joe's wife was already in her place at the head of the board.
A short stout matron of thirty, with yellow hair, blue eyes, and a very rosy face; her features were coarse, and their expression everything but pleasing; her whole appearance decidedly common and vulgar. Four young boys ranging from five to thirteen years of age, were seated on either side their mother, and formed very respectable olive branches; healthy merry looking fellows, with eyes brimful of fun and mischief. A wicker cradle, in which the youngest scion of the house was sleeping, stood beside Mrs. Barford, number two; so that if baby stirred during the repast his mother could keep him quiet, by moving the cradle with her foot, while attending to the wants of her household.
Joe fronted his better half at the foot of the table, in his shirt sleeves; tall, bony and hard featured, his honest jovial face tanned to a swarthy red; he presented a fair specimen of a common tiller of the soil; his three working hands, who sat near him, were far more civilized in their appearance than the master of the house.
As they came trooping in, and tumbled into their seats, Letty Barford called out, in a shrill voice.