The man answered by pointing with a short poker, which he held in his hand, to the bed, which was half screened from the room by a ragged curtain, which hung from the ceiling half-way down to the floor.

"And are the Darvels here ?" asked Mr.Crawley.Then Morris, again using the poker, pointed upwards, showing that the Darvels were still in their own allotted abode upstairs.
"You're early out, Muster Crawley," said Morris, and then he went on with his fire.

"Drat the sticks, if they bean't as wet as the old 'un hisself.

Get up, old woman, and do you do it, for I can't.

They wun't kindle for me, nohow." But the old woman, having well noted the presence of Mr.Crawley, thought it better to remain where she was.
Mr.Crawley sat himself down by the obstinate fire, and began to arrange the sticks.