Don't yo' hurry, Hester; stop and chat a bit with th' old lady.' 'Nay, Philip,' said Hester, 'thou's sadly tired; just take this cup o' tea; Sylvia 'll be grieved if yo' haven't something.' 'Sylvia doesn't care whether I'm full or fasting,' replied he, impatiently putting aside the cup.

'If she did she'd ha' taken care to be in, and ha' seen to things being as I like them.' Now in general Philip was the least particular of men about meals; and to do Sylvia justice, she was scrupulously attentive to every household duty in which old Phoebe would allow her to meddle, and always careful to see after her husband's comforts.

But Philip was too vexed at her absence to perceive the injustice of what he was saying, nor was he aware how Bell Robson had been attending to what he said.

But she was sadly discomfited by it, understanding just enough of the grievance in hand to think that her daughter was neglectful of those duties which she herself had always regarded as paramount to all others; nor could Hester convince her that Philip had not meant what he said; neither could she turn the poor old woman's thoughts from the words which had caused her distress.
Presently Sylvia came in, bright and cheerful, although breathless with hurry.
'Oh,' said she, taking off her wet shawl, 'we've had to shelter from such a storm of rain, baby and me--but see! she's none the worse for it, as bonny as iver, bless her.' Hester began some speech of admiration for the child in order to prevent Bell from delivering the lecture she felt sure was coming down on the unsuspecting Sylvia; but all in vain.
'Philip's been complaining on thee, Sylvie,' said Bell, in the way in which she had spoken to her daughter when she was a little child; grave and severe in tone and look, more than in words.

'I forget justly what about, but he spoke on thy neglecting him continual.
It's not right, my lass, it's not right; a woman should--but my head's very tired, and all I can think on to say is, it's not right.' 'Philip been complaining of me, and to mother!' said Sylvia, ready to burst into tears, so grieved and angry was she.
'No!' said Hester, 'thy mother has taken it a little too strong; he were vexed like at his tea not being ready.' Sylvia said no more, but the bright colour faded from her cheek, and the contraction of care returned to her brow.