"It's a good step to Brox'on, an' it's hungry air o'er
the hill--wi' that heavy coffin too. Eh! It's heavier now, wi' poor Bob
Tholer in't. Howiver, I've made a drap more porridge nor common this
mornin'. The feyther 'ull happen come in arter a bit. Not as he'll ate
much porridge. He swallers sixpenn'orth o' ale, an' saves a hap'orth o'
por-ridge--that's his way o' layin' by money, as I've told him many a
time, an' am likely to tell him again afore the day's out. Eh, poor mon,
he takes it quiet enough; there's no denyin' that."
But now Lisbeth heard the heavy "thud" of a running footstep on the
turf, and, turning quickly towards the door, she saw Adam enter, looking
so pale and overwhelmed that she screamed aloud and rushed towards him
before he had time to speak.
"Hush, Mother," Adam said, rather hoarsely, "don't be frightened.
Father's tumbled into the water. Belike we may bring him round again.
Seth and me are going to carry him in. Get a blanket and make it hot as
the fire."
In reality Adam was convinced that his father was dead but he knew there
was no other way of repressing his mother's impetuous wailing grief than
by occupying her with some active task which had hope in it.
He ran back to Seth, and the two sons lifted the sad burden in
heart-stricken silence.
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