’

Joseph snatched up the food indignantly, and brought it to us.

‘Is there aught ails th’ victuals?’ he asked, thrusting the tray under Heathcliff’s nose.

‘What should ail them?’ he said.

‘Wah!’ answered Joseph, ‘yon dainty chap says he cannut ate ‘em. But I guess it’s raight! His mother wer just soa - we wer a’most too mucky to sow t’ corn for makking her breead.’

‘Don’t mention his mother to me,’ said the master, angrily. ‘Get him something that he can eat, that’s all. What is his usual food, Nelly?’

I suggested boiled milk or tea; and the housekeeper received instructions to prepare some. Come, I reflected, his father’s