A cur-dog came limping towards her from the house. She recognized it as belonging to her nearest neighbour, an old farmer who lived two miles farther along the Edge. When she reached the gate of the cobbled yard, where the stable and house front and ‘shippon’ formed three sides of a court, in whose midst steamed a lush, dock-grown manure heap that was surrounded by a brown moat, she saw her visitor sitting on the pig-block beside the door.

‘Good e’en to yo’, Hannah,’ he said.

‘Good e’en, James. God’s mercy, haa I hev sweated!’

‘Ay, et’s close. Theer ’s thun’er abaat. An’ yo’ve been weighted, too.… I thowt I’ld coom ower wi’a bit o’ news for yo’. I went ower th’ hill to Thornhill this morn, to see haa Aitchilees Chapman were gettin’ on.’

She unlocked the door. ‘Coom in an’ hev a sup o’ beer,’ she said. ‘I tapped et yesternoon—et ’s th’ March brewin’. Well, an’ haa ’s he doin’?’

‘I’m sorry to say as he’s dëad—he died just afore I got to th’ spot.’

‘Eh dear! eh dear! an’ he were such a fine fellow, he were. An’ on’y fifty. Whate’er mun his wife an’ childer do? Hoo’s no push abaat her, an’ th’ eldest gal esna owd enow to go to sarvice!’

‘Th’ woman as were nursin’ him said as he’d begged an’ prayed as they shouldna be sent to th’ Bastille. Th’ wife’s abed wi’ another babby—th’ tenth, an’ hoo couldna be wi’ him at th’ last. Theer’s talk already o’ gettin’ up a ’scription an’ fixin’ em up i’ a shop.’

‘I’ll tell yo’ what, James, ef they do I shanna be again gi’in’ summat. I’ve thowt o’ helpin’ ’em all day. Yo’ know fowk said once upon a time as he were after me?’

‘Oo, ay, I hevna forgot. Yo’ jilted th’ poor chap, yo’ did.’

She bridled foolishly and ran on tiptoe (to show that she was still agile) to the pantry, where she drew a pot of ale.

‘I wunna tell yo’ what I’ll gie,’ she said. ‘I might surprise yo’. Theer’ll be little need o’ other ’scriptions when they get mine. Sup savagely, man, theer’s plenty more.’

He drained the mug and laid it heavily on the table.

‘No more, thank yo’, Hannah. Et’s good, thatten—none o’ malt-coom-an-peep-at-th’-wayter stuff. Naa I mun rëally go, milkin’s near, an’ my owd lass ’ll be gettin’ oneasy.’

When he had started, she called her own kine, with a shrill, oily: ‘Leddy, coom up, coom up, leddy,’ and milked and set everything in order for the night. After she had returned to the house-place; she went to an oaken cabinet that stood between the hearth and the window. It was a fine piece of furniture, carved with scenes from Holy Writ. Here Daniel scowled at man-faced lions; there Balaam mercilessly flogged his ass.

She unlocked one of the topmost doors and took from the shelf an uncouth pitcher of shiny green ware, covered with monstrous figures in high relief. As dusk was falling, she lighted a candle, so that she might watch the glittering of the bulging sides.

‘I dunna like to part wi’ et, but et seems my duty,’ she said, sadly. ‘Et’s bin i’ aar fam’ly for hunnerds o’ years. Feyther always hed et as a sailor brought et fro’ Chaney.’

She passed her hand over the rotund belly.