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“Ye might ha’ made the parridge worse；” she said to Dinah； “I
can ate it wi’out its turnin’ my stomach。 It might ha’ been a trifle
thicker an’ no harm； an’ I allays putten a sprig o’ mint in mysen；
but how’s ye t’ know that？ The lads arena like to get folks as ’ll
make their parridge as I’n made it for ’em； it’s well if they get
onybody as ’ll make parridge at all。 But ye might do； wi’ a bit o’
showin’； for ye’re a stirrin’ body in a mornin’； an’ ye’ve a light heel；
an’ ye’ve cleaned th’ house well enough for a ma’shift。”
“Makeshift； mother？” said Adam。 “Why； I think the house looks
beautiful。 I don’t know how it could look better。”
“Thee dostna know？ Nay； how’s thee to know？ Th’ men ne’er
know whether the floor’s cleaned or cat…licked。 But thee’lt know
when thee gets thy parridge burnt； as it’s like enough to be when
I’n gi’en o’er makin’ it。 Thee’lt think thy mother war good for
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summat then。”
“Dinah；” said Seth； “do come and sit down now and have your
breakfast。 We’re all served now。”
“Aye； come an’ sit ye down—do；” said Lisbeth； “an’ ate a
morsel； ye’d need； arter bein’ upo’ your legs this hour an’ half
a’ready。 Come； then；” she added； in a tone of complaining
affection； as Dinah sat down by her side； “I’ll be loath for ye t’ go；
but ye canna stay much longer； I doubt。 I could put up wi’ ye i’ th’
house better nor wi’ most folks。”
“I’ll stay till to…night if you’re willing；” said Dinah。 “I’d stay
longer； only I’m going back to Snowfield on Saturday； and I must
be with my aunt to…morrow。”
“Eh； I’d ne’er go back to that country。 My old man come from
that Stonyshire side； but he left it when he war a young un； an’ i’
the right on ’t too； for he said as there war no wood there； an’ it ’ud
ha’ been a bad country for a carpenter。”
“Ah；” said Adam； “I remember father telling me when I was a
little lad that he made up his mind if ever he moved it should be
south’ard。 But I’m not so sure about it。 Bartle Massey says—and
he knows the South—as the northern men are a finer breed than
the southern； harder…headed and stronger…bodied； and a deal
taller。 And then he says in some o’ those counties it’s as flat as the
back o’ your hand； and you can see nothing of a distance without
climbing up the highest trees。 I couldn’t abide that。 I like to go to
work by a road that’ll take me up a bit of a hill； and see the fields
for miles round me； and a bridge； or a town； or a bit of a steeple
here and there。 It makes you feel the world’s a big place； and
there’s other men working in it with their heads and hands
besides yourself。”
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“I like th’ hills best；” said Seth； “when the clouds are over your
head and you see the sun shining ever so far off； over the
Loamford way； as I’ve often done o’ late； on the stormy days。 It
seems to me as if that was heaven where there’s always joy and
sunshine； though this life’s dark and cloudy。”
“Oh； I love the Stonyshire side；” said Dinah； “I shouldn’t like to
set my face towards the countries where they’re rich in corn and
cattle； and the ground so level and easy to tread； and to turn my
back on the hills where the poor people have to live such a hard
life and the men spend their days in the mines away from the
sunlight。 It’s very blessed on a bleak cold day； when the sky is
hanging dark over the hill； to feel the love of God in one’s soul； and
carry it to the lonely； bare； stone houses； where there’s nothing
else to give comfort。”
“Eh！” said Lisbeth； “that’s very well for ye to talk； as looks welly
like the snowdrop…flowers as ha’ lived for days an’ days when I’n
gethered ’em； wi’ nothin’ but a drop o’ water an’ a peep o’ daylight；
but th’ hungry foulks had better leave th’ hungry country。 It
makes less mouths for the scant cake。 But；” she went on； looking
at Adam； “donna thee talk o’ goin’ south’ard or north’ard； an’
leavin’ thy feyther and mother i’ the churchyard； an’ goin’ to a
country as they know nothin’ on。 I’ll ne’er rest i’ my grave if I
donna see thee i’ the churchyard of a Sunday。”
“Donna fear； mother；” said Adam。 “If I hadna made up my
mind not to go； I should ha’ been gone before now。”
He had finished his breakfast now； and rose as he was speaking。
“What art goin’ to do？” asked Lisbeth。 “Set about thy feyther’s
coffin？”
“No； mother；” said Adam； “we’re going to take the wood to the
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village and have it made there。”
“Nay； my lad； nay；” Lisbeth burst out in an eager； wailing tone；
“thee wotna let nobody make thy feyther’s coffin but thysen？
Who’d make it so well？ An’ him as know’d what good work war；
an’s got a son as is the head o’ the village an’ all Treddles’on too；
for cleverness。”
“Very well； mother； if that’s thy wish； I’ll make the coffin at
home； but I thought thee wouldstna like to hear the work going
on。”
“An’ why shouldna I like ’t？ It’s the right thing to be done。 An’
what’s liking got to do wi’t？ It’s choice o’ mislikings is all I’n got i’
this world。 One mossel’s as good as another when your mouth’s
out o’ taste。 Thee mun set about it now this mornin’ fust thing。 I
wonna ha’ nobody to touch the coffin but thee。”
Adam’s eyes met Seth’s； which looked from Dinah to him rather
wistfully。
“No； Mother；” he said； “I’ll not consent but Seth shall have a
hand in it too； if it’s to be done at home。 I’ll go to the village this
forenoon； because Mr。 Burge ’ull want to see