They could not be induced to come on to the hearth.

The hearth is sacred to the family.
"Go thy ways i' th' armchair," cried Morel cheerily.
"Nay, thank yer; I'm very nicely here." "Yes, come, of course," insisted Mrs.Morel.
He rose and went awkwardly.

He sat in Morel's armchair awkwardly.

It was too great a familiarity.

But the fire made him blissfully happy.
"And how's that chest of yours ?" demanded Mrs.Morel.
He smiled again, with his blue eyes rather sunny.
"Oh, it's very middlin'," he said.
"Wi' a rattle in it like a kettle-drum," said Barker shortly.
"T-t-t-t!" went Mrs.Morel rapidly with her tongue.