Page 252 - sons-and-lovers

macy went on in an utterly blanched and chaste fashion. It
could never be mentioned that the mare was in foal.
When he was nineteen, he was earning only twenty shil-
lings a week, but he was happy. His painting went well, and
life went well enough. On the Good Friday he organised
a walk to the Hemlock Stone. There were three lads of his
own age, then Annie and Arthur, Miriam and Geoffrey.
Arthur, apprenticed as an electrician in Nottingham, was
home for the holiday. Morel, as usual, was up early, whis-
tling and sawing in the yard. At seven o’clock the family
heard him buy threepennyworth of hot-cross buns; he talk-
ed with gusto to the little girl who brought them, calling
her ‘my darling”. He turned away several boys who came
with more buns, telling them they had been ‘kested’ by a
little lass. Then Mrs. Morel got up, and the family straggled
down. It was an immense luxury to everybody, this lying
in bed just beyond the ordinary time on a weekday. And
Paul and Arthur read before breakfast, and had the meal
unwashed, sitting in their shirt-sleeves. This was another
holiday luxury. The room was warm. Everything felt free of
care and anxiety. There was a sense of plenty in the house.
While the boys were reading, Mrs. Morel went into the
garden. They were now in another house, an old one, near
the Scargill Street home, which had been left soon after
William had died. Directly came an excited cry from the
garden:
‘Paul! Paul! come and look!’
It was his mother’s voice. He threw down his book and
went out. There was a long garden that ran to a field. It was a

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