. "
"I don't know how you seize the time. said Mrs. Morel. "How much money can you make with so many socks?" "
"Two pennies and a half a dozen. replied the other.
"Well," said Mrs. Morel, "I'd rather starve than sit there knitting twenty-four stockings for twopence-half." "
"Oh, I don't know why," said Mrs. Anthony, "you can knit some time."
Hawes came along ringing the bell. The women were waiting for him at the yard gate with knitted stockings draped over their arms. The vulgar fellow played jokes on them, tried to cajole them, tease them. Mrs. Morel scorned. With a single glance, she walked into her yard.
There is a customary habit here: if a woman wants to find her neighbor, she sticks a poker into the fireplace and taps on the wall behind the fireplace. It was a very loud sound, because the fireplaces were built back to back.
One morning, Mrs Keek was making pudding, and she almost died of fright when she heard a "bang" on her fireplace, and she rushed to the By the fence, his hands were covered with flour. "Did you knock it? Mrs. Morel? "
"Excuse me, Mrs Keek.
Mrs. Keek climbed up her clothes-pan, climbed over the wall and down from Mrs. Morel's, and rushed into her neighbour's house.
"Well, my dear, do you think How about it? She asked with concern.
"Go and find Mrs. Ball." said Mrs. Morel.
Mrs. Keek went out into the yard and called out in a high-pitched voice, "Ajiwenji! "
The sound could be heard from all over the Riverland. Edge came running at last, and was sent to find Mrs. Ball again. Mrs. Keek, ignoring her pudding, was with her neighbors.
Mrs. Morel went to bed, Mrs. Keek took care of Anne and William to dinner. Mrs. Ball, a stout wobbler, issued orders from around the house.
"Cut some cold meat for the master to cook, Make him another apple panna cotta. said Mrs. Morel.
"He can get by without pudding today." said Mrs. Power.
Morel was not one of those people who waited early under the mine hanger to get up early. Some people waited there before the four o'clock whistle. But Morel The mine where the coal seam is thin is only a mile and a half away from the wellhead. He usually does not finish his work until the foreman stops working. However, this day, he got tired of working, and at two o'clock, he watched it by the light of a green candle. Watch—he was in a safe lane—he looked at it again at two-thirty.
Morel was digging a rock so as not to interfere with the next day's work. Pickaxe "crack, crack" planing.
"Are you almost done? cried his mate, Buck.
"Done?" As long as this world exists, never try to finish it. roared Morel. "He went on digging, exhausted.
"It's an annoying job," Barker said.
Morel was so tired that he was furious. He didn't answer, but just dug as hard as he could.
"You'd better save it for tomorrow, Walter, and you won't have to push so hard," said Buck.
"I don't feel like doing this job at all tomorrow, Isriel," Walter yelled.
"Oh, well, if you don't do it, someone else will." Israel said.
Morel continued digging.
"Oh, above—it's over." The people in the next alley shouted and left.
Morel continued digging.
"You may catch up with me." Buck said, and left. When he left, leaving Morel alone, he nearly went mad. He hasn't finished his work yet. He was overworked, almost insanely tired. Standing up, dripping with sweat, he dropped his tools, put on his overcoat, blew out the candles, took the lamp and left. In the main alley, someone else's lamp flickered. There was a hollow echo. This underground passage is long and difficult.
He sat at the bottom of the well, dripping with sweat. There are many miners waiting to go up the well, talking about their work noisily. Morel answered the greeting reluctantly and curtly.
"Damn it, it's raining," said old Giles, when he heard the news from above.
Morel was very relieved. He had put his favorite old umbrella in the lamp room. Finally, it was his turn to get into the elevator, and after a while, he reached the ground. He handed over his lamp, and took the umbrella which he had bought at a great sale for one shilling and sixpence. He stood by the well for a while, looking out over the fields, where the gray rain was dripping down and the trucks were full of wet, shiny coal. The rain trickled down the side of the mine car and hit the white words "C, W Company" on the body of the mine. These pale, sad-looking people streamed along the railroad tracks and out into the fields in the rain. Morel put up the umbrella, and when he heard the raindrops dripping onto the umbrella, he felt much happier.
On the road to Bestwood, the miners were wet, dusty and dirty. But their red lips still talked excitedly. Morel walked among the crowd in silence, frowning furiously. When passing by the Prince of Wales Hotel and the Allen Hotel, many people slipped in. Morel painfully suppressed this temptation, walked with heavy steps, passed under the wet branches protruding from the garden wall, and walked on the muddy road of Green Hill Lane.
Mrs Morel lay in bed, listening to the rain, and the footsteps and voices of the miners returning from Minton, and the bang bang bang on the door as they came up the stone steps from the fields.
"There's herb soup behind the kitchen door," she said, "Sir, if he's not drinking on the way, he might like to have a drink."
But he was late, and she decided he had gone for a drink, because it was raining , how could he careSon, two lines of heartfelt tears flowed down. The child raised his hand.
"My baby," she called softly.
At this moment, she felt in the depths of her soul, the guilt of her and her husband.
The child looked up at her. The child had blue eyes like hers, but looked heavy and sad, as if he had understood what had hit his heart.
The delicate baby was lying in her arms, his dark blue eyes always looked at her without blinking, as if to see through her deep inner world. She no longer loves her husband, and didn't want this child at first, but now he is lying in her arms, touching her heart. She felt as if the umbilical cord that connected the baby's tiny body to hers had not been severed. There was a passion for loving the baby in her heart. She held the child to her breast, facing him.
She will use all her strength and all her love to make up for the child she brought into the world but has no love for.
Now that the child has been born, we must take special care of the child and let him grow up in love. His clear and sensible eyes made her painful and frightened. Does he know everything about her? Did he have a sense of reproach in her look? She was in pain and fear, and she felt like her marrow was going to melt.
She was again conscious of the baby in her hands.
"Look!" she said, "Look! My darling."
Holding the baby up to the pulsating, red sun, she was relieved to see him raise his little fist.
Then she took him in her arms again, ashamed of her impulsive desire to get him back where he came from.
"If he grows up," she thought to herself, "what will he be—what will he be?
She is worried.
"I'm going to call him 'Paul.' she said suddenly, not knowing why.
After a while she came home. The night was sprinkled on the dark green grass, and everything was lost in the darkness.
As expected, she found that the house was empty However, Morel went home at 10 o'clock. That day, at least, passed smoothly.
Walter Morel was very irritable during this time. He was exhausted from work. When he got home, He's not nice to talk to anyone. If the fire is too small, he blasphemes like a robber. He complains that the food is not good. If the children speak louder, he yells loudly, making the mother angry and the children hate him. .
Friday, it was eleven o'clock, and he hadn't come home. The baby was sick and restless, and cried when it was put down. Mrs. Morel was dying of exhaustion. She was still so weak that she could barely hold herself up.
"I hope that annoying guy comes back soon. She murmured wearily to herself.
The baby finally fell asleep in her arms. She was so tired that she hardly had the strength to carry the baby into the cradle.
"Whenever he comes back, I don't care about him. She said: "Speaking will only make me angry. I might as well not say anything. I know that no matter what he does, he will make me angry." "She was talking to herself again.
She sighed. Hearing him come back. It seemed that the footsteps were too much for her. He was taking revenge on her. Drunk. When he entered the house. She Keep looking down at the child. Don't want to see him. He walks over. He bumps crookedly against the cupboard. The pots and pans inside are rattling. He grabs the round white pot lid. Steady himself.
Hang up your coat and hat. Turn around again. Stand in the distance and stare at her. But she is sitting there leaning over to the child.
"Is there nothing to eat at home? he asked imperiously. As if commanding a servant. When he was drunk.
He would put on a town accent. Mrs. Morel hated him.
"You know what's in the house ? she said coldly and without emotion.
He stood looking at her. He didn't move.
"I asked a polite question. I would also like a polite answer. he said awkwardly.
"You've already had a polite answer. "She said. Still ignoring him.
He stared again. Then he staggered forward. One hand was pressed against the table. The other hand opened the drawer to take out a knife to cut bread. He He pulled the drawer crookedly. It got stuck and couldn’t be opened. He pulled it violently. The drawer was completely pulled out. The metal objects such as knives, forks and spoons inside were scattered all over the floor. The child twitched violently in fright.
"You What are you doing so clumsily? drunk. cried the mother.
"Then you should pick up these things, and you should serve men like other women. "
"Serve you—serve you?" she cried. "Oh." I understand. "
"Yes. I want you to understand what you have to do. Serve me. You should serve me.... "
"No way. master. I'd rather wait on the dog at the gate. "
"What, what? "
He was trying to install the drawer. Listening to her last words. He turned around. His face was flushed. His bloodshot eyes stared at her menacingly, without saying a word.
"Bah——" she said contemptuously .
He was furious. He jerked the drawer. The drawer fell. It hit his leg hard. He threw the drawer at her reflexively.
The corner of the drawer touched her Frowning, she fell into the fireplace. She tilted her head, fell off the chair, and almost passed out. She felt very uncomfortable inside, and she held the child tightly in her arms. After a while, she tried to wake up Come here, the child is crying. Her left brow kept bleeding, and when she looked down at the child, she became dizzy. A few drops of blood dripped onto the child's white scarf. Fortunately, the child was not hurt. She raised her head Keep your head balanced and keep the blood from flooding your eyes.
Walter Morel stillears, she laughed again, and she felt much more at ease.
Mrs. Morel sat looking. She knew he was penniless and would be in debt if he stayed out overnight.
She hated him—absolutely. He didn't even have the guts to take his bundle out of the house.
she pondered, about nine o'clock. He opened the door and came in, furtively. However, he still kept a stern face, with a warm and angry face, and tried his best to pretend to be majestic.
"Hmph. Where can you go? You can't even take out the garden with your bundles," she said.
His stupid appearance prevented her from being angry with him. He took off his shoes and got ready for bed.
"I don't know what's in your blue handkerchief," she said. "If you keep it there, the children will go and get it in the morning."
He got up and went out of the house, I'll be back in a while. He walked through the kitchen with his face turned away, and hurried upstairs. Mrs. Morel smiled furtively as he sped furtively down the inner passage, the bundle still in his hand, but her heart was wretched. Because she had loved him.