ave acknowledged. She pitied him.

At this time Paul became an important factor in Jordan's warehouse. Mr.
Pappleworth left to set up a business of his own, and Paul remained with
Mr. Jordan as Spiral overseer. His wages were to be raised to thirty
shillings at the year-end, if things went well.

Still on Friday night Miriam often came down for her French lesson. Paul
did not go so frequently to Willey Farm, and she grieved at the thought
of her education's coming to end; moreover, they both loved to
be together, in spite of discords. So they read Balzac, and did
compositions, and felt highly cultured.

Friday night was reckoning night for the miners. Morel
"reckoned"--shared up the money of the stall--either in the New Inn
at Bretty or in his own house, according as his fellow-butties wished.
Barker had turned a non-drinker, so now the men reckoned at Morel's
house.

Annie, who had been teaching away, was at home again. She was still a
tomboy; and she was engaged to be married. Paul was studying design.

Morel was always in good spirits on Friday evening, unless the week's
earnings were small. He bustled immediately after his dinner, prepared
to get washed. It was decorum for the women to absent themselves while
the men reckoned. Women were not supposed to spy into such a masculine
privacy as the butties' reckoning, nor were they to know the exact
amount of the week's earnings. So, whilst her father was spluttering
in the scullery, Annie went out to spend an hour with a neighbour. Mrs.
Morel attended to her baking.

"Shut that doo-er!" bawled Morel furiously.

Annie banged it behind her, and was gone.

"If tha oppens it again while I'm weshin' me, I'll ma'e thy jaw rattle,"
he threatened from the midst of his soap-suds. Paul and the mother
frowned to hear him.

Presently he came running out of the scullery, with the soapy water
dripping from him, dithering with cold.

"Oh, my sirs!" he said. "Wheer's my towel?"

It was hung on a chair to warm before the fire, otherwise he would
have bullied and blustered. He squatted on his heels before the hot
baking-fire to dry himself.

"F-ff-f!" he went, pretending to shudder with cold.

"Goodness, man, don't be such a kid!" said Mrs. Morel. "It's NOT cold."

"Thee strip thysen stark nak'd to wesh thy flesh i' that scullery," said
the miner, as he rubbed his hair; "nowt b'r a ice-'ouse!"

"And I shouldn't make that fuss," replied his wife.

"No, tha'd drop down