owt t' be let alone. Nowt moythers me worse than hevin' to think and talk. One thing at a time—that's what I say—but it's what I can't get. There's t' pork-pies, an t' mince-pies, and t' renderin', and there's see in' after Tom when he comes to salt t' pig down, and I'm fair capped which way to turn. But t' plum-puddin's is made, and thank the Lord for that!"
Hepworth believed in keeping Christmas after the whole-hearted fashion of his ancestors, and in pursuance of his faith he caused parlour and kitchens to be lavishly decorated with green-stuff. Elisabeth found congenial employment in this: with the mysteries of the kitchen she was by no means familiar, but in anything that required taste or nicety her capabilities showed themselves to be fully adequate. Hepworth coming in on Christmas eve from Sicaster market found his parlour decorated in new fashion.
"I see you have been busy, Elisabeth," he remarked when she came in with his tea-tray.
