D. H. Lawrence's 'Odour of Chrysanthemums'

"Take your arms off the table! Yes, when your father or
Annie comes in. They're turning the soft coal men up ----"

"Can I 'ave summat t' eat?"

" 'Summat t' eat'--who says that! You can have 'some-
thing to eat' when you have your tea."*

The boy dragged his way to the foot of the stairs, two white
wooden steps of which intruded into the kitchen.

"Don't drag your feet!" said the mother, watching him,
"They want mending often enough."

The kitchen was small and full of ruddy firelight. The
fierce coals piled their beautiful, glowing life up to the chimney
mouth. The white hearth looked hot, and the redness was on
the bright steel fender. The uncovered floor was worn with
hollows, but its soft deep red was unsullied. The tea-table
shone white and comfortable, and the scarlet chinz on the sofa
under the window was warm and full of invitation. The boy
sat on the lowest stair, in the far corner, cutting a piece of white
wood with a blunt knife. He struggled with determined little
fists. His mother moved about the oven, and glanced at the
clock. Then she tried the potatoes and pulled the saucepan
back on the hob from the fire. She left the oven door slightly
ajar, and the room was full of the smell of stewed meat. She
glanced at the clock again, and began cutting bread and butter.
It was half-past four. When she had cut four or five thick
slices, the woman stood, with nothing to do but wait. The
boy still bent over his piece of wood.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He did not answer.

"What are you making?" she repeated.

"A tram," he answered, meaning a little truck such as is
used down pit*.

"Don't make a litter", she said.

"They on'y go on th' steerfoot mat*," he replied.

"Very well," said his mother, repeating his words to correct
their vulgar pronunciation,"see they do only go on the stair-
foot mat*, and then shake it when you've done."

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