* * * * *
He spoke to her that afternoon.
In the cottage down by the beck Essy sat by the hearth, nursing her
baby. He had recovered from his ailment and lay in her lap, gurgling
and squinting at the fire. He wore the robe that Mrs. Gale had brought
to Essy five months ago. Essy had turned it up above his knees, and
smiling softly she watched his little pink feet curling and uncurling
as she held them to the fire. Essy's back and the back of the baby's
head were toward the door, which stood open, the day being still warm.
Greatorex stood there a moment looking at them before he tapped on the
door.
He felt no tenderness for either of them, only a sullen pity that was
half resentment.
As if she had heard his footsteps and known them, Essy spoke without
looking round.
"Yo' can coom in ef yo' want," she said.
"Thank yo'," he said stiffly and came in.
"I caan't get oop wi' t' baaby. But there's a chair soomwhere."
He found it and sat down.
"Are yo' woondering why I've coom, Essy?"
"Naw, Jim. I wasn't woondering about yo' at all."
Her voice was sweet and placable. She followed the direction of his
eyes.
"'E's better. Ef thot's what yo've coom for."
"It isn' what I've coom for. I've soomthing to saay to yo', Essy."
"There's nat mooch good yo're saayin' anything, Jim. I knaw all yo'
'ave t' saay."
"Yo'll 'ave t' 'ear it, Essy, whether yo' knaw it or not.
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