XIII

“Then I shall go upstairs,” I answered; “show me a chamber.” I put my basin on a tray, and went myself to fetch some more milk. With great grumblings, the fellow rose, and preceded me in my ascent: we mounted to the garrets; he opened a door, now and then, to look into the apartments we passed. “Here’s a rahm,” he said, at last, flinging back a cranky board on hinges. “It’s weel eneugh to ate a few porridge in. There’s a pack o’ corn i’ t’ corner, thear, meeterly clane; if ye’re feared o’ muckying yer grand silk cloes, spread yer hankerchir o’ t’ top on’t.” The “rahm” was a kind of lumber-hole smelling strong of malt and grain; various sacks of which articles were piled around, leaving a wide, bare space in the middle. “Why, man,” I exclaimed, facing him angrily, “this is not a place to sleep in. I wish to see my bedroom.” “ Bed-rume! ” he repeated, in a tone of mockery. “Yah’s see all t’ bed-rumes thear is⁠—yon’s mine.” He pointed into the second garret, only differing from the first in being more naked about the walls, and having a large, low, curtainless bed, with an indigo-coloured quilt, at one end. “What do I want with yours?” I retorted. “I suppose Mr. Heathcliff does not lodge at the top of the house, does he?” “Oh! it’s Maister Hathecliff’s ye’re wanting?” cried he, as if making a new discovery. “Couldn’t ye ha’ said soa, at onst?