Page 110 - sons-and-lovers

liers in their pit-dirt. They had come up early. The women
and children usually loitered about on the red gravel paths.
Paul always examined the grass border, and the big grass
bank, because in it grew tiny pansies and tiny forget-me-
nots. There was a sound of many voices. The women had on
their Sunday hats. The girls chattered loudly. Little dogs ran
here and there. The green shrubs were silent all around.
Then from inside came the cry ‘Spinney Park—Spinney
Park.’ All the folk for Spinney Park trooped inside. When
it was time for Bretty to be paid, Paul went in among the
crowd. The pay-room was quite small. A counter went
across, dividing it into half. Behind the counter stood two
men—Mr. Braithwaite and his clerk, Mr. Winterbottom.
Mr. Braithwaite was large, somewhat of the stern patriarch
in appearance, having a rather thin white beard. He was
usually muffled in an enormous silk neckerchief, and right
up to the hot summer a huge fire burned in the open grate.
No window was open. Sometimes in winter the air scorched
the throats of the people, coming in from the freshness. Mr.
Winterbottom was rather small and fat, and very bald. He
made remarks that were not witty, whilst his chief launched
forth patriarchal admonitions against the colliers.
The room was crowded with miners in their pit-dirt, men
who had been home and changed, and women, and one or
two children, and usually a dog. Paul was quite small, so it
was often his fate to be jammed behind the legs of the men,
near the fire which scorched him. He knew the order of the
names—they went according to stall number.
‘Holliday,’ came the ringing voice of Mr. Braithwaite.

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