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Chapter 3. Home

           

           ‘Now,Affery,’saidhe,‘now,woman,whatareyoudoing?Can’tyoufindMasterArthursomethingoranothertopickat?’

           MasterArthurrepeatedhisrecentrefusaltopickatanything.

           ‘Verywell,then,’saidtheoldman;‘makehisbed.Stiryourself.’Hisneckwassotwistedthattheknottedendsofhiswhitecravatusuallydangledunderoneear;hisnaturalacerbityandenergy,alwayscontendingwithasecondnatureofhabitualrepression,gavehisfeaturesaswollenandsuffusedlook;andaltogether,hehadaweirdappearanceofhavinghangedhimselfatonetimeorother,andofhavinggoneabouteversince,halterandall,exactlyassometimelyhandhadcuthimdown.

           ‘You’llhavebitterwordstogetherto-morrow,Arthur;youandyourmother,’saidJeremiah.‘Yourhavinggivenupthebusinessonyourfather’sdeath—whichshesuspects,thoughwehaveleftittoyoutotellher—won’tgooffsmoothly.’

           ‘Ihavegivenupeverythinginlifeforthebusiness,andthetimecameformetogiveupthat.’

           ‘Good!’criedJeremiah,evidentlymeaningBad.‘Verygood!onlydon’texpectmetostandbetweenyourmotherandyou,Arthur.Istoodbetweenyourmotherandyourfather,fendingoffthis,andfendingoffthat,andgettingcrushedandpoundedbetwixtem;andI’vedonewithsuchwork.’

           ‘Youwillneverbeaskedtobeginitagainforme,Jeremiah.’

           ‘Good.I’mgladtohearit;becauseIshouldhavehadtodeclineit,ifIhadbeen.That’senough—asyourmothersays—andmorethanenoughofsuchmattersonaSabbathnight.

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