Seth knew that Adam always meant what he said, and was not to be
persuaded into meaning anything else. So he turned, with rather a heavy
heart, into the house-place.

"Adam's niver touched a bit o' victual sin' home he's come," said
Lisbeth. "I reckon thee'st hed thy supper at some o' thy Methody folks."

"Nay, Mother," said Seth, "I've had no supper yet."

"Come, then," said Lisbeth, "but donna thee ate the taters, for Adam
'ull happen ate 'em if I leave 'em stannin'. He loves a bit o' taters
an' gravy. But he's been so sore an' angered, he wouldn't ate 'em, for
all I'd putten 'em by o' purpose for him. An' he's been a-threatenin'
to go away again," she went on, whimpering, "an' I'm fast sure he'll go
some dawnin' afore I'm up, an' niver let me know aforehand, an' he'll
niver come back again when once he's gone. An' I'd better niver ha'
had a son, as is like no other body's son for the deftness an' th'
handiness, an' so looked on by th' grit folks, an' tall an' upright like
a poplar-tree, an' me to be parted from him an' niver see 'm no more."

"Come, Mother, donna grieve thyself in vain," said Seth, in a soothing
voice. "Thee'st not half so good reason to think as Adam 'ull go away
as to think he'll stay with thee. He may say such a thing when he's in
wrath--and he's got excuse for being wrathful sometimes--but his heart
'ud never let him go. Think how he's stood by us all when it's been none
so easy--paying his savings to free me from going for a soldier, an'
turnin' his earnin's into wood for father, when he's got plenty o' uses
for his money, and many a young man like him 'ud ha' been married and
settled before now. He'll never turn round and knock down his own work,
and forsake them as it's been the labour of his life to stand by."