It must mean that hollow shuddering sort of roar which rushed round and round the house as if the giant no one could see were buffeting it and beating at the walls and windows to try to break in.
But one knew he could not get in, and somehow it made one feel very safe and warm inside a room with a red coal fire.
"But why did he hate it so ?" she asked, after she had listened.

She intended to know if Martha did.
Then Martha gave up her store of knowledge.
"Mind," she said, "Mrs.Medlock said it's not to be talked about.
There's lots o' things in this place that's not to be talked over.
That's Mr.Craven's orders.

His troubles are none servants' business, he says.

But for th' garden he wouldn't be like he is.

It was Mrs.
Craven's garden that she had made when first they were married an' she just loved it, an' they used to 'tend the flowers themselves.