Yo're welcome.' But as Nelly entered the flagged kitchen, with its joints of bacon and its bunches of dried herbs, hanging from the low beamed ceiling, its wide hob grate, its dresser, table and chairs of old Westmorland oak, every article in it shining with elbow-grease,--she saw that Mrs.
Grayson looked particularly tired and pale.
'Yo mun ha' passed them in t' lane ?' said the farmer's wife wearily, when the flowers had been admired and put in water, and Nelly had been established in the farmer's own chair by the fire, while his wife insisted on getting an early cup of tea.
'Who were they, Mrs.Grayson ?' 'Well, they're nobbut a queer soart, Mrs.Sarratt--and I'd be glad to see t' back on 'em.

They're "conscientious objectors"-- that's what they are--an my husband coom across them in Kendal toother day.

He'd finished wi t' market, and he strolled into the room at the Town Hall, where the men were coomin' in--yo know--to sign on for the war.

An' he got talkin' wi' these two lads, who were lookin' on as he was.

And they said they was "conscientious objectors"-- and wouldn't fight not for nothing nor nobody.