'It's no news about him ?' said she, standing up, and supporting herself on the stick she was now accustomed to use.
'Bless yo', no, dunnot be afeared, missus; it's only as a spoke hasty to t' wench, an' a want t' tell her as a'm sorry,' said Kester, advancing into the kitchen, and looking round for Sylvia.
'Sylvie, Sylvie!' shouted he; 'she mun be i' t' house.' Sylvia came slowly down the stairs, and stood before him.

Her face was pale, her mouth set and determined; the light of her eyes veiled in gloom.

Kester shrank from her look, and even more from her silence.
'A'm come to ax pardon,' said he, after a little pause.
She was still silent.
'A'm noane above axing pardon, though a'm fifty and more, and thee's but a silly wench, as a've nursed i' my arms.

A'll say before thy mother as a ought niver to ha' used them words, and as how a'm sorry for 't.' 'I don't understand it all,' said Bell, in a hurried and perplexed tone.

'What has Kester been saying, my lass ?' she added, turning to Sylvia.
Sylvia went a step or two nearer to her mother, and took hold of her hand as if to quieten her; then facing once more round, she said deliberately to Kester,-- 'If thou wasn't Kester, I'd niver forgive thee.