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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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174 swung above it; and a wooden bowl of oatmeal stood on the settle close by. The contents of the pan began to boil, and he turned to plunge his hand into the bowl; I conjectured that this preparation was probably for our supper, and, being hungry, I resolved it should be eatable--so, crying out sharply--“I’ll make the porridge!” I removed the vessel out of his reach, and proceeded to take off my hat and riding habit. “Mr. Earnshaw,” I continued, “directs me to wait on myself--I will--I’m not going to act the lady among you, for fear I should starve.” “Gooid Lord!” he muttered, sitting down, and stroking his ribbed stockings from the knee to the ankle. “If they’s tuh be fresh ortherings--just when Aw getten used tuh two maisters, if Aw mun hev a mistress set o’er my heead, it’s loike time tuh be flitting. Aw niver did think tuh say t’ day ut Aw mud lave th’ owld place-- but Aw daht it’s nigh at hend!” This lamentation drew no notice from me; I went briskly to work, sighing to remember a period when it would have been all merry fun; but compelled speedily to drive off the remembrance. It racked me to recall past happiness, and the greater peril there was of conjuring up its apparition, the quicker the thible ran round, and the faster the handfuls of meal fell into the water. Joseph beheld my style of cookery with growing indignation. “Thear!” he ejaculated. “Hareton, thah willn’t sup thy porridge tuh neeght; they’ll be nowt bud lumps as big as maw nave. Thear, agean! Aw’d fling in bowl un all, if Aw wer yah! Thear, pale t’ guilp off, un then yah’ll hae done wi’t. Bang, bang. It’s a marcy t’ bothom isn’t deaved aht!” It was rather a rough mess, I own, when poured into the basins; four had been provided, and a gallon pitcher of new milk was |
