Episode 2: The Father

The trundle of the small train was imminent. Suddenly the engine loomed past the house and came to a stop opposite the gate.

The engine-driver, a short man with round grey beard, leaned out of the cab high above the woman.

"I've just come right for a cup of tea," he said in a merry little fashion.

It was her father. She went in, saying she would mash for him. Directly, she returned.

"I didn't come and see you on Sunday," began the little grey-bearded man. "Because ---- "

" I didn't expect you," said his daughter coldly.

The engine-driver winced; then, trying to resume his merry, airy manner, he said :

"Oh, have you heard then ? Well, and what do you think ---- ?"

"I think it is soon enough," she replied.

At her brief censure the little man made an impatient gesture, and said coaxingly, excusing himself :

"Well, what's a man to do ? It's no sort of life living with strangers, a man of my years. I'm used to sitting on my own hearth with my own woman. And if I'm going to marry again it may as well be soon as late -- a few months make no difference."

The woman did not reply, but turned and went into the house. The man in the engine-cab stared about in much discomfort, till she returned with a cup of tea and a piece of bread and butter on a plate. She went up the steps and stood near the footplate of the hissing engine.

"You needn't 'a brought me bread an' butter as well," said her father. "But a cup of tea " -- he sipped appreciatively -- "it's very nice." He sipped for a moment or two, then:
"I hear as Walter's got another bout on," he said.

"I don't know when he hasn't," said the woman bitterly.

"I heered tell of him in the 'Lord Nelson' braggin' as he was going to spend that b---- afore he went: half a sovereign that was."

"When ?" asked the woman.

"A' Sat'day night -- an' I know it's true."

"Very likely," she laughed bitterly. "He is doing well -- an' gives me twenty-three shillings. I'd rather have bad times than good, he hasn't so much to spend."

"It's a crying shame, he wants horsewhipping !" said the little man. The woman turned her head with weary impatience. Her father swallowed the last of his tea and handed her the cup.

"Ay," he sighed, wiping his mouth. "I've repented the day I ever let you have him."

He put his hand on the lever. The little engine strained and groaned, and the train rumbled towards the crossing. The woman again looked across the metals. Darkness was settling over the spaces of the railway, and the trucks : the miners, in grey sombre groups, were still passing home. The winding- engine pulsed hurriedly, with brief pauses. Elizabeth Bates looked at the dreary flow of men, then she went indoors. Her husband did not come.