"
"Weel, weel, there's nought so queer as folk," mumbled Mrs. Garth.
Joe seemed to understand his mother's implication.
"I'm moider'd to death," he said, "what with yourself and them. I'm
right glad they're going off this morning, that's the truth."
This declaration of Mr. Garth's veracity was not conducive to
amiability.
He looked as black as his sanguine complexion would allow.
Mrs. Garth glanced up at him. "Why, laddie, what ails thee? Thou'rt as
crook't as a tiphorn this morning," she said, in a tone that was meant
to coax her son out of a cantankerous temper.
"I'm like to be," grumbled Mr. Garth.
"Why, laddie?" asked his mother, purring, now in other fashion.
"Why?" said Joe,--"why?--because I can never sleep at night now, no,
nor work in the day neither--that's _why_."
"Hush!" said Mrs. Garth, turning a quick eye towards the
aforementioned door. Then quietly resuming her attentions to the
gorse, she added, in another tone, "That's nowther nowt nor summat,
lad."
"It'll take a thicker skin nor mine, mother, to hold out much longer,"
said Joe huskily, but struggling to speak beneath his breath.
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