Mr Crawley sat himself down by the obstinate fire, and began to arrange the sticks.  ‘Dan, Dan,’ said a voice from the bed, ’sure you wouldn’t let his reverence trouble himself with the fire.’

‘How be I to keep him from it, if he chooses?  I didn’t ax him.’  Then Morris stood by and watched, and after a while Mr Crawley succeeded in his attempt.

’How could it burn when you had not given the small spark a current of air to help it?’ said Mr Crawley.

‘In course not,’ said the woman, ‘but he be such stupid.’

The husband said no word in acknowledgement of this compliment, nor did he thank Mr Crawley for what he had done, nor appear as though he intended to take any notice of him.  He was going on with his work when Mr Crawley again interrupted him.

‘How did you get back from Silverbridge yesterday, Dan?’

‘Footed it—­all the blessed way.’

‘It’s only eight miles.’

’And I footed it there, and that’s sixteen.  And I paid one-and-sixpence for beer and grub;—­s’help me I did.’

‘Dan!’ said a voice from the bed, rebuking him for the impropriety of his language.

’Well; I beg pardon, but I did.  And they guv’me two bob;—­just two plain shillings by—­’

‘Dan!’

’And I’d ’ve arned three-and-six here at brickmaking easy; that’s what I wuld.  How’s a poor man to live that way?  They’ll not cotch me at Barchester ’Sizes at that price; they may be sure of that.  Look there—­that’s what I’ve got for my day.’  And he put his hand into his breeches-pocket and fetched out a sixpence.  ’How’s a man to fill his belly out of that.  Damnation!’

‘Dan!’

’Well, what did I say?  Hold your jaw, will you, and not be halloaing at me that way?  I know what I am saying of, and what I’m a doing of.’

‘I wish they’d given you something more with all my heart,’ said Crawley.

‘We knows that,’ cried the woman from the bed.  ’We is sure of that, your reverence.’

‘Sixpence!’ said the man, scornfully.  ‘If they’d have guv’ me nothing at all but the run of my teeth at the public-house, I’d ’ve taken it better.  But sixpence!’

Then there was a pause.  ‘And what have they given to me?’ said Mr Crawley, when the man’s ill-humour about his sixpence had so far subsided as to allow of his busying himself again about the premises.

‘Yes, indeed;—­yes, indeed,’ said the woman.  ’Yes, yes, we feel that; we do indeed, Mr Crawley.’

’I tell you what, sir; for another sixpence I’d have sworn you’d never guv’ me the paper at all; and so I will now, if it bean’t too late;—­sixpence or no sixpence.  What do I care?  D—–­ them.’

‘Dan!’

’And why shouldn’t I?  They hain’t got brains enough among them to winny the truth from the lies—­not among the lot of ’em.  I’ll swear afore the judge that you didn’t give it me at all, if that’ll do any good.’