Mr. and Mrs. Poyser paused a minute at the church gate: they were
waiting for Adam to Come up, not being contented to go away without
saying a kind word to the widow and her sons.
"Well, Mrs. Bede," said Mrs. Poyser, as they walked on together, "you
must keep up your heart; husbands and wives must be content when they've
lived to rear their children and see one another's hair grey."
"Aye, aye," said Mr. Poyser; "they wonna have long to wait for one
another then, anyhow. And ye've got two o' the strapping'st sons i'
th' country; and well you may, for I remember poor Thias as fine a
broad-shouldered fellow as need to be; and as for you, Mrs. Bede, why
you're straighter i' the back nor half the young women now."
"Eh," said Lisbeth, "it's poor luck for the platter to wear well when
it's broke i' two. The sooner I'm laid under the thorn the better. I'm
no good to nobody now."
Adam never took notice of his mother's little unjust plaints; but Seth
said, "Nay, Mother, thee mustna say so. Thy sons 'ull never get another
mother."
"That's true, lad, that's true," said Mr. Poyser; "and it's wrong on us
to give way to grief, Mrs. Bede; for it's like the children cryin' when
the fathers and mothers take things from 'em.
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