'You stinking idler! Running about the village, are you? And not a drop of water in the house!'
Clutching him with one hand she beat the screaming child with the other.
'Mummy! I won't do it again…. Mummy, leave off…. Mumm…'
She beat him long and hard, giving vent to all her pent-up rage.
'Mother! Ow! All ye Saints! She's killing me!'
'You dog! You're loafing about, and not a drop of water do you fetch me, and there's no wood am I to feed you for nothing, and you worrying me into the bargain?' She hit harder.
At last he tore himself away, jumped out by the window, and shouted back at her with a tear-choked voice:
'May your paws rot off to the elbows, you dog of a mother! May you be stricken down, you sow!… You may wait till you're manure before I fetch you any water!'
And he ran back to the village.
The room suddenly seemed strangely empty. The lamp above the fireplace trembled feebly. The little girl was sobbing to herself.