And now his eldest daughter, a girl of fifteen, kept a poor house for him, and looked after the two younger children.
"A mean, wizzen-hearted stick!" Mrs.Morel said of him.
"I've never known Jerry mean in MY life," protested Morel.

"A opener-handed and more freer chap you couldn't find anywhere, accordin' to my knowledge." "Open-handed to you," retorted Mrs.Morel.

"But his fist is shut tight enough to his children, poor things." "Poor things! And what for are they poor things, I should like to know." But Mrs.Morel would not be appeased on Jerry's score.
The subject of argument was seen, craning his thin neck over the scullery curtain.

He caught Mrs.Morel's eye.
"Mornin', missis! Mester in ?" "Yes--he is." Jerry entered unasked, and stood by the kitchen doorway.

He was not invited to sit down, but stood there, coolly asserting the rights of men and husbands.
"A nice day," he said to Mrs.Morel.
"Yes.
"Grand out this morning--grand for a walk." "Do you mean YOU'RE going for a walk ?" she asked.
"Yes.