Mebbe he desarved it all, but one's a kind o' tender feeling to one's tables and chairs, special if one's had t' bees-waxing on 'em.' 'A wish he'd been burnt on t' top on 'em, a do,' growled out Daniel, shaking the ash out of his pipe.
'Don't speak so ill o' thysel',' said his wife.

'Thou'd ha' been t' first t' pluck him down if he'd screeched out.' 'An' a'll warrant if they come about wi' a paper asking for feyther's name to make up for what Hobbs has lost by t' fire, feyther 'll be for giving him summut,' said Sylvia.
'Thou knows nought about it,' said Daniel.

'Hold thy tongue next time till thou's axed to speak, my wench.' His sharp irritated way of speaking was so new to Sylvia, that the tears sprang to her eyes, and her lip quivered.

Philip saw it all, and yearned over her.

He plunged headlong into some other subject to try and divert attention from her; but Daniel was too ill at ease to talk much, and Bell was obliged to try and keep up the semblance of conversation, with an occasional word or two from Kester, who seemed instinctively to fall into her way of thinking, and to endeavour to keep the dark thought in the background.
Sylvia stole off to bed; more concerned at her father's angry way of speaking than at the idea of his being amenable to law for what he had done; the one was a sharp present evil, the other something distant and unlikely.