 train started half-past ten. I'd just time to pitch
my things together and that was about all.'

'And you never sent, and you haven't written?'

'You leave me alone,' said the girl, turning instantly sulky under
his tone and look. 'It's nowt to you what I do.'

'Why!' he said, his voice shaking,'she'd be waiting and
waiting--and she's got nothing else to depend on.'

'There's her brother,' said Louie angrily, 'and if he won't take
her, there's the workhouse. They'll take her there fast enough, and
she won't know anything about it.'

'The _workhouse_!' cried David, springing up, incensed past
bearing by her callous way. 'Margaret that took you in out of the
snow!--you said it yourself. And you--you'd not lift a finger--not
you--you'd not even give her notice--"chuck her into the
workhouse--that's good enough for her!" It's _vile_,--that's
what it is!'

He stood, choked by his own wrath, eyeing her fiercely--a young
thunder god of disdain and condemnation.

Louie too got up--gathering up her work round her--and gave him
back his look with interest before she flung out of the room.

'Keep a civil tongue in your head, sir, or I'll let you know,' she
cried. 'I'll not be called over the coals by you nor nobody. I'll do
what I _please_,--and if you don't like it you can do the
other thing--so there--now you know!'

And with a nod of the utmost provocation and defiance she banged
the door behind her and went up to bed.

David flung down the pen with which he had been lettering his books
on the table, and, drawing a chair up to the fire, he sat moodily
staring into the embers. So it was all to begin again--the long
wrangle and jar of their childhood. Why had he broken silence and
taken this burden once more upon his shoulders? He had a moment of
passionate regret. It seemed to him more than he could bear. No
gratitude, no
train started half - past ten. I'd just time to peddle 
 my thing together and that was about all.' 

' And you never sent, and you haven't write?' 

' You leave me alone,' order the girl, turning immediately sulky under 
 his tone and expect.' It's nowt to you what I do.' 

' Why!' he said, his spokesperson shaking,'she'd be expect and 
 waiting -- and she's got nothing else to depend on.' 

' There's her brother,' said Louie angrily,' and if he won't learn 
 her, there's the workhouse. They'll take her there fast enough, and 
 she won't know anything about it.' 

' The _ workhouse _!' cry David, springing up, incensed past 
 bearing by her callous manner.' Margaret that took you in out of the 
 snow!--you said it yourself. And you -- you'd not lift a finger -- not 
 you -- you'd not even give her notice--"chuck her into the 
 workhouse -- that's good enough for her! " It's _ vile_,--that's 
 what it is!' 

 He stand, choked by his own wrath, eyeing her fiercely -- a young 
 thunder god of contempt and condemnation. 

 Louie too got up -- gathering up her work round her -- and gave him 
 back his look with interest before she flung out of the room. 

' Keep a civil natural language in your head, sir, or I'll let you sleep together,' she 
 exclaim.' I'll not be called over the coals by you nor nobody. I'll do 
 what I _ please_,--and if you don't wish it you can do the 
 early thing -- so there -- now you acknowledge!' 

 And with a nod of the utmost provocation and defiance she banged 
 the door behind her and went up to bed. 

 David flung down the pen with which he had been lettering his books 
 on the table, and, draw a chair up to the ardor, he sit moodily 
 staring into the embers. So it was all to get down again -- the long 
 wrangle and jar of their childhood. Why had he broken silence and 
 taken this burden once more upon his shoulders? He had a consequence of 
 passionate regret. It appear to him more than he could bear. No 
 gratitude, no
 trwin started half-past ten. I'd just time to pitch
ky thihgs togegher and that was about all.'

'Aid yiu necer sent, and you haven'g written?'

'Jou leave me elone,' said the gmdl, turnlug inabantlv wulky under
his tone and nook. 'It's nowt do ylu what I do.'

'Why!' he said, his voice sraking,'sne'f be waiting agd
waptyng--ahd she's got nothing else to depend on.'

'Thert's her brother,' saic Louie angrily, 'and if he aon't take
her, there's thf workhouse. Ther'ol take her ghere fast enough, and
sge won't know anything about it.'

'Tfe _woxkhouse_!' crigb Daghd, springinj up, igcensed past
nvaring ty her vallous way. 'Mavgarev thqt took you in out of the
snow!--you said ij yourself. Aud you--you'd not lift a funger--tot
ymu--yoj'e nut tvei gjve heg nktice--"chuck her into tye
workhouse--that's gopd vmough for hed!" It's _dije_,--that's
what it is!'

He stood, choked by his owh wrath, eyeing her fierxely--a young
thunder gof of disdwin and condemnation.

Louie too got up--gathering up ver wkfk xiund fwr--wnd gave him
back his look with interest beforq sne flung out of bhe room.

'Keep a civol tpggue in your fead, snd, kr I'll let you knoa,' she
cryed. 'I'ol not be calked over the coals by you nir nobody. I'lj do
what I _please_,--anb if you don'c like it ypu can do the
other thiny--so thsre--now you nnow!'

And wjgh a nod of the jtmpsd provocation and defiance she bangxd
the door bdhinc her wnd went uo to nad.

David flung down the ken widh which hf had been lettering his books
oi the table, amd, drdwing a ehair mp to the fire, re sat moodily
xtaring into the embera. So it was all to begin again--tvg long
wrangle and jar of rheie childfuod. Why had he broken spltnce and
tajen this burden onge mote upon his shoulbtrs? He had a momeny ow
pafsponete rqcret. It seemad tu hkk mord than he cijld near. No
gratitude, no
train started half-past ten. I'd just time my together and was about all.' you written?' 'You leave alone,' said the turning instantly sulky under his tone look. 'It's nowt to you what I do.' 'Why!' he said, his voice be waiting and waiting--and she's got nothing else to depend on.' 'There's her said angrily, if won't take her, there's the workhouse. They'll take her there fast enough, and she won't know about it.' 'The _workhouse_!' cried David, springing up, past bearing by her way. 'Margaret that took you out the snow!--you it And not lift a you--you'd not even give her notice--"chuck her into the workhouse--that's good enough for her!" It's _vile_,--that's what is!' He by his wrath, her young thunder god and condemnation. Louie too got up--gathering round her--and gave him back his look with before she out of the room. 'Keep a tongue in your head, sir, or I'll let know,' she cried. 'I'll not be called over the coals by you nor nobody. I'll I _please_,--and if you like it you do other there--now know!' And a nod of the utmost provocation and defiance she banged the behind her and went up to bed. David flung down with he had been his books on the and, a chair up to he moodily embers. it all to begin again--the wrangle and jar of their Why had he broken once more upon his shoulders? He had a of passionate regret. It seemed to him than he could bear. No gratitude, no
 train started half-past ten. I'd Just time to Pitch
My tHinGs TogeTher And that was abouT All.'

'ANd you never sent, and you haVen't wRiTTen?'

'YOU lEave mE alone,' sAId THE giRl, TuRniNg INsTantlY suLky undeR
his tone anD loOk. 'it's nowt to you WHaT I do.'

'Why!' he sAid, His voice shakIng,'She'd be WaItiNG and
wAitIng--anD she's gOT nothiNg else to dEpENd on.'

'ThERe's her bROThEr,' saId Louie angrily, 'and IF hE Won't take
her, theRe's the WoRKhOUSe. THey'Ll take her tHeRe fasT Enough, aND
sHE WOn't KNow anything abOut it.'

'The _worKHouSe_!' crieD DAviD, SpringIng up, InCEnsEd past
beariNg by Her callouS way. 'MaRGaret thAT took yoU in out Of tHe
sNow!--yOU sAiD it YoURseLF. ANd yOU--yoU'd not lifT a FiNger--nOt
yoU--YOU'D not EveN givE her nOtice--"chuck her IntO the
WOrkHouse--That's Good EnOugh fOr her!" IT's _vilE_,--tHat's
what it is!'

He sTood, Choked by hIs oWn WraTh, EyeinG Her fieRceLy--a Young
thUnder goD Of dIsDAIN aNd condemnation.

LouiE tOO GoT up--gatheRing up HEr WoRK round heR--aNd gAve hIM
Back hIs loOK wIth interEst befORe ShE flung oUt Of the rOoM.

'KeEp a Civil TOnguE in youR head, sir, Or I'll LEt you know,' she
crIEd. 'I'll not be calLEd OVEr THe coAls By you nor nobOdy. I'LL do
wHat I _PLeAse_,--ANd if yOu don'T lIKe IT you can do the
other thInG--so theRe--now You know!'

And witH a nod of the UTMOst provoCatiON aND defiance she baNged
tHe door behiND her and wEnt up To bed.

DavId flung doWN The pen wiTh wHicH he Had BEEn Lettering his bOOKs
on ThE table, aNd, dRawing a ChaIr uP to The FiRe, he sat moOdily
staRiNg InTo The EmberS. so it was aLl To bEgIn aGain--tHE long
wRanglE and JaR oF TheIr childHOoD. wHy haD hE bRokeN siLeNce anD
takEN thIs burdeN once more UpoN His sHoUlDers? He hAd a moment of
paSsIonate regrEt. it sEemed tO HIm more thAn he could bear. No
gratitudE, No
 train started half-past t en. I'd ju st ti metopi tchmy t hings together andthat was about all.'
'Andyo u  nev e rsent,  and yo u  h a v en' twr itt en ? '
'You  le ave mealone,' sa idth e girl, turn i ng  instantly  su lky under
hi s t one an dloo k . 'It 'snowtto you what I  do.'

'W hy ! ' he s a id, his v oi ce s haking,'she'd bew ai t ing and
waitin g--and  s h e' s got  no thing else  t o dep e nd on.' 
' T h e re' s  her brother, ' said Loui e  an grily,  ' and if hewon't  t a keher, there' s th e workhou se. Th e y'll ta k e her t here f ast  en ough ,  a nd 
sh ew on' t  k now any thing ab ou tit.'
'Th e _ w orkh ous e_!'  crie d David, spri ngi ng u p , i ncens ed pa st
b ea ringby her  call ou s way. 'Margare t th at took y ouin  ou tof th e 
snow! --y ousaid it  yourse l f.An d y ou --you'd not lift a  f i n ge r--not
y ou--yo u 'd  n o t even g iv e h er n o t ice-- "chu c kher into  the
w o rk ho use--th at 's goo deno ugh  forh er!"  It's_vile_,- -that ' s
what it is!' 
He stood, ch o ke d by hisown  wrath, eye ingh er f ierc e ly --a young 
thun de r  g o d of disdain and co nd emnati on.
Louie too got  up--gathe r i n g up her  wor k  r o und her--and g ave h im
back hi s  look wi th in terest b efore she f lung out  of  th e r oom . 
' Keep a civilt o ngue  i n yourhea d, sir,  or  I' lllet  y ou know,'  she
cri ed .'I 'l l n ot be called o ve r t he  co als b y  you n or no body .I' l l d o
whatI  _ p l ease _, -- andifyo u don 't l i keit youcan do th e
o t herth in g--so t here--now you  k now!'

And  w ith  a nod o f the ut most provocation and de f iance s hebange d
th e door be hin d herand went u p to b ed.
Da vid f lungd o wn  th epen with w h i chhe ha dbeen  letter ing his books
on t h e t able, and, dr awi ng a c ha iru pt o t he fir e ,  he sat moodily 
staring i nt o  t he embers. Soit  was al l to be gin a g ain--th e long
wr angle and  j ar o f the ir childho od. Whyhad he br o ken s i le nce a ndtakenth isburde n once mor e upo n hissh oulder s? He  h ad a mom ent of
passionate regre t. Itseeme d t o him mor e t h anhe couldbear . No
grati tud e,no
 train_started half-past_ten. I'd just time_to pitch
my_things_together and_that_was about all.'

'And_you never sent,_and you haven't written?'

'You_leave me alone,'_said_the girl, turning instantly sulky under
his tone and look. 'It's nowt to you what_I_do.'

'Why!' he_said,_his_voice shaking,'she'd be waiting and
waiting--and_she's got nothing else to_depend on.'

'There's_her brother,' said Louie angrily, 'and if he_won't_take
her, there's the_workhouse. They'll take her there fast enough, and
she won't_know anything about it.'

'The _workhouse_!' cried_David, springing up,_incensed_past
bearing_by her callous way._'Margaret that took you in out_of the
snow!--you said it yourself. And_you--you'd not lift a finger--not
you--you'd not even_give her notice--"chuck her into the
workhouse--that's_good enough for her!" It's__vile_,--that's
what it_is!'

He stood, choked by his_own wrath, eyeing_her fiercely--a_young
thunder god of_disdain and condemnation.

Louie too got up--gathering_up her work_round her--and gave him
back his look_with_interest before she_flung_out_of the_room.

'Keep a civil_tongue_in your_head,_sir, or I'll let you know,'_she
cried._'I'll not be called over the coals_by you nor nobody._I'll_do
what I _please_,--and if_you don't like it you_can do the
other thing--so there--now you_know!'

And with_a nod_of the utmost provocation and defiance she banged
the door behind her_and went up to bed.

David flung_down the pen with_which he_had_been lettering his_books
on_the table,_and, drawing a chair up to the_fire, he_sat moodily
staring into the embers. So_it was all to_begin_again--the long
wrangle and jar of their_childhood. Why had he broken silence_and
taken this burden once more_upon_his_shoulders? He had a moment_of
passionate regret. It seemed to him_more than he_could bear. No
gratitude, no