Abel was well on in 'Ap Jenkyn' by now.

Hazel moved about, seeing to supper, for she was as hungry as Foxy,
talking all the time in her rather shrilly sweet voice, while she
dumped the cracked cups and the loaf and margarine on the bare table.
The kettle was not boiling, so she threw some bacon-grease on the fire,
and a great tongue of flame sprang out and licked at Abel's beard. He
raised a hand to it, continuing to play with the other.

Hazel laughed.

'You be fair comic-struck,' she said.

She always spoke in this tone of easy comradeship; they got on very
well; they were so entirely indifferent to each other. There was
nothing filial about her or parental about him. Neither did they ever
evince the least affection for each other.

He struck up 'It's a fine hunting day.'

'Oh! shut thy row with that drodsome thing!' said Hazel with sudden
passion. 'Look'ee! I unna bide in if you go on.'

'Ur?' queried Abel dreamily.

'Play summat else!' said Hazel, 'not that; I dunna like it.'

'You be a queer girl, 'Azel,' said Abel, coming out of his abstraction.
'But I dunna mind playing "Why do the People?" instead; it's just as