Page 46 - sons-and-lovers

Later, when the time for the baby grew nearer, he would
bustle round in his slovenly fashion, poking out the ashes,
rubbing the fireplace, sweeping the house before he went to
work. Then, feeling very self-righteous, he went upstairs.
‘Now I’m cleaned up for thee: tha’s no ‘casions ter stir a
peg all day, but sit and read thy books.’
Which made her laugh, in spite of her indignation.
‘And the dinner cooks itself?’ she answered.
‘Eh, I know nowt about th’ dinner.’
‘You’d know if there weren’t any.’
‘Ay, ‘appen so,’ he answered, departing.
When she got downstairs, she would find the house
tidy, but dirty. She could not rest until she had thoroughly
cleaned; so she went down to the ash-pit with her dustpan.
Mrs. Kirk, spying her, would contrive to have to go to her
own coal-place at that minute. Then, across the wooden
fence, she would call:
‘So you keep wagging on, then?’
‘Ay,’ answered Mrs. Morel deprecatingly. ‘There’s noth-
ing else for it.’
‘Have you seen Hose?’ called a very small woman from
across the road. It was Mrs. Anthony, a black-haired, strange
little body, who always wore a brown velvet dress, tight fit-
ting.
‘I haven’t,’ said Mrs. Morel.
‘Eh, I wish he’d come. I’ve got a copperful of clothes, an’
I’m sure I heered his bell.’
‘Hark! He’s at the end.’
The two women looked down the alley. At the end of the