'You tell Eve,' he says, 'that I'm not goin' to foace myself where I'm
told I sha'n't be wanted.' Awh, my dear, he'd seed 'ee somewheres," she
continued in answer to Eve's shrug of bewilderment: "I could tell that
so soon as iver I'd clapped eyes on un."

"And where's he off to now?" said Eve, determined to have an immediate
settlement of her wrongs.

"I can't tell: he just flung they words at me and was gone."

Eve said no more, but with the apparent intention of taking off her hat
went up stairs, while Joan, bidding Jerrem go and see if Uncle Zebedee
was roused up yet, returned to her previous occupation of preparing the
tea. When it was ready she called out, "Come 'long, Eve;" but no answer
was returned. "Tay's ready, my dear." Still no reply.--"She can't ha'
gone out agen?" thought Joan, mounting the stairs to ascertain the
cause of the silence, which was soon explained by the sight of Eve
flung down on the bed, with her head buried in the pillow.--"Now,
whatever be doin' this for?" exclaimed Joan, bending down and
discovering that Eve was sobbing as if her heart would break. "Awh,
doan't cry now, there's a dear: 't 'ull all come straight agen. Why,
now, you'll see Adam 'ull be back in no time. 'Twas only through bein'
baulked when he'd a come back o' purpose to take 'ee out."

"How was I to know that?" sobbed Eve.

"No, o' course you didn't, and that's what I told un. But, lors! 'tis
in the nature o' men to be jealous o' one 'nother, and with Adam more
partickler o' Jerrem; so for the future you must humor un a bit, 'cos
there's things atwixt they two you doan't know nothin' of, and so can't