“Since you were passing, you’d be best to sit ’ee down and take a bit of summat,” said the woman reluctantly. “Father, cut the young gentleman a slice. Get a plate from the dresser, Lob.” Thus speaking, she thrust a chair beneath the table, with more violence than was necessary, and having added a very moderate portion of Yorkshire pudding to the immense slice of beef carved by the monument-maker, she caught up her own empty plate and retired into the scullery.

When once his guest was seated at the table, between the silent Gerda and himself, the obese stonecutter relaxed into most free pleasantry.