Page 217 - sons-and-lovers

ting, her day’s work done, with hands folded in her lap upon
her coarse apron. She always used to have changed her dress
and put on a black apron, before. Now Annie set his sup-
per, and his mother sat looking blankly in front of her, her
mouth shut tight. Then he beat his brains for news to tell
her.
‘Mother, Miss Jordan was down to-day, and she said my
sketch of a colliery at work was beautiful.’
But Mrs. Morel took no notice. Night after night he
forced himself to tell her things, although she did not listen.
It drove him almost insane to have her thus. At last:
‘What’s a-matter, mother?’ he asked.
She did not hear.
‘What’s a-matter?’ he persisted. ‘Mother, what’s a-mat-
ter?’
‘You know what’s the matter,’ she said irritably, turning
away.
The lad—he was sixteen years old—went to bed drearily.
He was cut off and wretched through October, November
and December. His mother tried, but she could not rouse
herself. She could only brood on her dead son; he had been
let to die so cruelly.
At last, on December 23, with his five shillings Christ-
mas-box in his pocket, Paul wandered blindly home. His
mother looked at him, and her heart stood still.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.
‘I’m badly, mother!’ he replied. ‘Mr. Jordan gave me five
shillings for a Christmas-box!’
He handed it to her with trembling hands. She put it on

1 Sons and Lovers