"It seems to me more like you were telling her her fortune," said Mary in a very waspish way which she could put on very quick when she was not pleased. "But John's waiting for yo', and mi uncle says yo're to excuse Ben setting yo' home tonight, he has summot to say to him while Mr. Webster's here. It's a pity, for happen if he walked home wi' yo' by moonlight, he might ha' seen to your fortin coming true." "For shame o' thissen, Mary," I said angrily. "Nay dunnot take on, Faith; it's only Mary's spiteful way. Nobody heeds her." And I turned to go into the house. "And you promise, Ben," cried Faith, after me. "Aye, I'll mind me, Faith; I'll mind me." "I declare, Faith," I heard Mary say, "These may be town ways, colloguing wi' strangers i' th' dark. But we're none used to 'em at Holme. Yo' might be a pair o' Luddites, such carryings on." It was easy enough to see something more than common was troubling our folk. My father was sat in his chair by the fireside, but his pipe lay discarded on the table, and his ale was untasted in the pewter. My mother was rocking nervously in her chair, and she was creasing and smoothing her silk apron as she only did when she was what she called "worked up," and little Mr. Webster first crossed his left leg over his right knee, and then his right leg over his left knee, and mopped his brow with his handkerchief as though it were the dog days. "The murther's out," I thought, for something told me what was coming. "Sit you down, Ben," said my father. "And put th' sneck on the door," said my mother. "I declare what wi' folk fra Huthersfelt an' what wi' folk fra Low Moor, this house is getting waur nor Lee Gap, an' yo' never know who'll come next, nor when to call your house your own." Now this was unlike my mother, who was not one to welcome people to their face and back-bite them when they were gone, like I have known some do. I put down the sneck and sat me down on the settle and waited. "Mr. Webster's been talking, to us, Ben," said my father very gravely. "And blind as a bat I've been not to see it misen," snapped my mother. "Talking to us about yo', Ben," father went on, "and very kind and friendly of him we take it, and it explains a many things I've wondered at more nor a little. Only last market day I met Mr. Horsfall i' th' Cloth Hall, and I said 'Any more news o' th' Luddites, Mr. Horsfall,' and he snapped out summot about it not being his way to carry coals to Newcastle. Aw wondered what he meant, but it's plain enough now what he were driving at." Plain enough. But I must make a show of some sort, so I said: "Perhaps yo'll make it plainer, father."