Philip spoke to Phoebe in the familiar words of country-folk.

Indeed, until his marriage, Phoebe had always called him by his Christian name, and had found it very difficult to change it into 'master.' 'Where's Sylvie ?' said he.
'Gone out wi' t' babby,' replied Phoebe.
'Why can't Nancy carry it out ?' asked Philip.
It was touching on the old grievance: he was tired, and he spoke with sharp annoyance.

Phoebe might easily have told him the real state of the case; Nancy was busy at her washing, which would have been reason enough.

But the nursemaid had vexed her, and she did not like Philip's sharpness, so she only said,-- 'It's noane o' my business; it's yo' t' look after yo'r own wife and child; but yo'r but a lad after a'.' This was not conciliatory speech, and just put the last stroke to Philip's fit of ill-temper.
'I'm not for my tea to-night,' said he, to Hester, when all was ready.

'Sylvie's not here, and nothing is nice, or as it should be.
I'll go and set to on t' stock-taking.