However, although he did not wish to be rude, Edgar was damned if he was going to let this woman, who after all was only the wife of the local butcher, treat him like something unpleasant stuck to her shoe. He had been polite and well-mannered and had given Greta’s mother a cake that he had persuaded Mary to bake for him and saw no reason why he should allow her to belittle him this way.
‘Aye, I’m a working man and proud of it. And, it seems to me, that without us pitmen, yon fire,’ he said, pointing at the unlit coal in the hearth, ‘would likely have nowt to burn in it.’
‘Well I never. Such rudeness,’ Greta’s mother stated, jerking back dramatically as though slapped.
‘Well said, Edgar,’ Greta said to his surprise. ‘Mother, now you leave him be.’
‘Aye, no doubt the lad’s right,’ added
