'And I chose the red; it's so much gayer, and folk can see me the

farther off. Feyther likes to see me at first turn o' t' lane, don't

yo', feyther? and I'll niver turn out when it's boun' for to rain,

so it shall niver get a spot near it, mammy.' 'I reckoned it were to wear i' bad weather,' said Bell. 'Leastways

that were the pretext for coaxing feyther out o' it.' She said it in a kindly tone, though the words became a prudent

rather than a fond mother. But Sylvia understood her better than

Daniel did as it appeared.

'Hou'd thy tongue, mother. She niver spoke a pretext at all.' He did not rightly know what a 'pretext' was: Bell was a touch

better educated than her husband, but he did not acknowledge this,

and made a particular point of differing from her whenever she used

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a word beyond his comprehension.

'She's a good lass at times; and if she liked to wear a

yellow-orange cloak she should have it. Here's Philip here, as

stands up for laws and press-gangs, I'll set him to find us a law

again pleasing our lass; and she our only one. Thou dostn't think on

that, mother!

Bell did think of that often; oftener than her husband, perhaps, for

she remembered every day, and many times a day, the little one that

had been born and had died while its father was away on some long

voyage. But it was not her way to make replies.

Sylvia, who had more insight into her mother's heart than Daniel,

broke in with a new subject.

'Oh! as for Philip, he's been preaching up laws all t' way home. I

said naught, but let Molly hold her own; or else I could ha' told a

tale about silks an' lace an' things.' Philip's face flushed. Not because of the smuggling; every one did

that, only it was considered polite to ignore it; but he was annoyed

to perceive how quickly his little cousin had discovered that his

practice did not agree with his preaching, and vexed, too, to see

how delighted she was to bring out the fact. He had some little

idea, too, that his uncle might make use of his practice as an

argument against the preaching he had lately been indulging in, in

opposition to Daniel; but Daniel was too far gone in his

Hollands-and-water to do more than enunciate his own opinions, which

he did with hesitating and laboured distinctness in the following

sentence: 'What I think and say is this. Laws is made for to keep some folks

fra' harming others. Press-gangs and coast-guards harm me i' my

business, and keep me fra' getting what I want. Theerefore, what I

think and say is this: Measter Cholmley should put down press-gangs

and coast-guards. If that theere isn't reason I ax yo' to tell me

what is? an' if Measter Cholmley don't do what I ax him, he may go

whistle for my vote, he may.' At this period in his conversation, Bell Robson interfered; not in

the least from any feeling of disgust or annoyance, or dread of what

he might say or do if he went on drinking, but simply as a matter of

health. Sylvia, too, was in no way annoyed; not only with her

father, but with every man whom she knew, excepting her cousin

Philip, was it a matter of course to drink till their ideas became

confused. So she simply put her wheel aside, as preparatory to going

to bed, when her mother said, in a more decided tone than that which

she had used on any other occasion but this, and similar ones'Come, measter, you've had as much as is good for you.' 'Let a' be! Let a' be,' said he, clutching at the bottle of spirits,

but perhaps rather more good-humoured with what he had drunk than he

was before; he jerked a little more into his glass before his wife

carried it off, and locked it up in the cupboard, putting the key in

her pocket, and then he said, winking at Philip-'Eh! my man. Niver gie a woman t' whip hand o'er yo'! Yo' seen what

it brings a man to; but for a' that I'll vote for Cholmley, an'

d----t' press-gang!' He had to shout out the last after Philip, for Hepburn, really

anxious to please his aunt, and disliking drinking habits himself by

constitution, was already at the door, and setting out on his return

home, thinking, it must be confessed, far more of the character of

Sylvia's shake of the hand than of the parting words of either his

uncle or aunt.




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