She pushed the loaf towards the angry man and crossed over to the rug, where she leaned her head against the mantelpiece, and Baldwin’s anger bubbled up so furiously that at first he could only splutter out a succession of oaths. Then he said:
“But what can you expect?”—he was apparently directing the inquiry to Keturah, but his eyes were on Nancy’s averted head. “She’s like to side wi’ Maniwel, seeing ’at he’s Jagger’s father! Aye, even though he’s taking bite and sup out of her mouth. Isn’t her interests and mine t’ same? What ’ud John Clegg think to a man ’at reckons he’s fain to wed a lass, and at t’ same time sets up to rob her of her business...?”
“What would he think of a master who sacked his best man rather than pay him a fair wage?” she asked, wheeling round and speaking hotly. “Who was it forced him to begin for himself? You wind the clock up and then blame it for going!”
“If I sacked my best man I found a better,” he answered, somewhat discomfited by the logic of the attack. “Inman’s worth six of Jagger.”
“Then what are you grumbling about?” she replied still fiercely. “What harm can Jagger do you with a non-such like Inman to help you? But whether he hurts you or he doesn’t I’m not going to be the ash-heap where you throw all your nasty tempers, and you may as well make your mind up to it.”
“But you can’t deny, Nancy, ’at you’ve been same as a dog with a sore tail ever since Jagger left,” pleaded Keturah whose idea of storms fell short of whirlwinds, and who, like many another nagging woman was a coward at heart. “I’m sure there’s been no living with you, you’ve been that contrairy.”
“Then we’d better part,” rejoined Nancy, “and that’ll maybe suit us all.”
Hereupon Baldwin growled a suggestion that instead of clacking like a couple of condemned hens it would be advisable to get on with the tea. Although his brain worked slowly it worked accurately along a certain brass-lined groove, and he had already repented of his attack on Nancy, with whom it was not policy to quarrel beyond remedy. The girl, however, was not so easily appeased.
“I can have mine when you’ve finished,” she said, “then foul looks won’t turn the milk sour.”
“And that’ll be making work,” protested Keturah, “or anyway it’ll be spreading it out. Draw your chair up and take no notice of Baldwin. You ought to know by this time ’at he’s either to uncork his-self or burst, same as other men.”