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It was fear made my few poor hairs so thin! No busting out, no slamming of doors, no meddling with yer eternal soul and all that; and though 'tis a shilling a week less I'm the richer man; for what's all the world if yer mind is always in a larry, Miss Henchet?"
As soon as he recognized them he started. "What, Abel Whittle; is it that ye are heere?" said Farfrae. "Ay, yes sir! You see he was kind-like to mother when she wer here below, though 'a was rough to me." "Who are you talking of?" "O sir Mr. Henchet! Didn't ye know it? He's just gone about half-an-hour ago, by the sun; for I've got no watch to my name." "Not dead?" faltered Elizabeth-Jane.
Over these, in fresh white, spread the name of Farfrae. Abel Whittle was edging his skeleton in at the wicket, and she said, "Mr. Farfrae is master here?" "Yaas, Miss Henchet," he said, "Mr. Farfrae have bought the concern and all of we work-folk with it; and 'tis better for us than 'twas though I shouldn't say that to you as a daughter-law. We work harder, but we bain't made afeard now.
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