I'll finish heating the oven, and set you free to go and skiver up them ducks." His eye had passed with pitiless directness of criticism into yet remote recesses of Winterborne's awkwardly built premises, where the aforesaid birds were hanging.
"And I'll help finish the tarts," said Grace, cheerfully.
"I don't know about that," said her father.

"'Tisn't quite so much in your line as it is in your mother-law's and mine." "Of course I couldn't let you, Grace!" said Giles, with some distress.
"I'll do it, of course," said Mrs.Melbury, taking off her silk train, hanging it up to a nail, carefully rolling back her sleeves, pinning them to her shoulders, and stripping Giles of his apron for her own use.
So Grace pottered idly about, while her father and his wife helped on the preparations.

A kindly pity of his household management, which Winterborne saw in her eyes whenever he caught them, depressed him much more than her contempt would have done.
Creedle met Giles at the pump after a while, when each of the others was absorbed in the difficulties of a cuisine based on utensils, cupboards, and provisions that were strange to them.

He groaned to the young man in a whisper, "This is a bruckle het, maister, I'm much afeared! Who'd ha' thought they'd ha' come so soon ?" The bitter placidity of Winterborne's look adumbrated the misgivings he did not care to express.

"Have you got the celery ready ?" he asked, quickly.
"Now that's a thing I never could mind; no, not if you'd paid me in silver and gold.