Then he came back.
"Goodness, man!" she said.

"You're like an ill-sitting hen." "Hadna you better be gettin' him summat t' eat ready ?" asked the father.
"There's plenty of time," she answered.
"There's not so much as I can see on," he answered, turning crossly in his chair.

She began to clear her table.

The kettle was singing.

They waited and waited.
Meantime the three children were on the platform at Sethley Bridge, on the Midland main line, two miles from home.