'You know it's grandmother's own house,' she said; 'and the lord of the
manor himself has no right to it. But I'll go down and fetch Stephen, if
you'll only wait.'
'We daren't wait, Martha,' answered Morris kindly; 'and it's no use,
lass; the master's too many for thee. But thee go down to Stephen; and
we'll move the things safe, as if they were our own, and put them where
they'll not be broken; and we'll take care of little Nan and thy poor old
grandfather. Tell Stephen we're desperately cut up about it ourselves;
but, if we hadn't done it, somebody that has no good-will towards him
would have taken the job. So go thy poor ways with thee, my lass; we are
main sorry for thee and Stephen.'
The hot, choking smoke from the limekiln was blowing across the works;
and the dusty pit-bank was covered with busy men and boys and girls,
shouting, laughing, singing, and swearing, when Martha arrived at
Botfield. She was rarely seen at the pit, for her thrifty and housewifely
habits kept her busy at Fern's Hollow; and the rough, loud voices of the
banksmen, the regular beat of the engine, the clanking of chains, and the
dust and smoke and heat of the almost strange scene bewildered the
hillside girl.
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