"Yer 'air was awful pretty." The change troubled him vaguely; he was
not pleased to find that his wife, who had kept her looks beyond the
average, should have aged.
"I reckon I'm as God made me, but I was never one to trouble about my
looks." She sought for words to express her thought. "Red 'air or
white, I'm the same."
"Iss," he said and continued to look at her thoughtfully.
She might be the same woman, but her effect upon others, and in
particular on himself, would be different. "'Ow be 'ee?"
"I've 'ad a prettily and draggin' time, but now I'm doin' grand."
He uttered a rough sound of no meaning, but she took it to be
congratulatory.
"I shall be up afore long."
"Up?" he murmured, glancing sideways at the bed.
"I shall get Raby Gregor to make me a little trolly so that I can get
about."
He pushed his chair farther away. In spite of appearances she was not a
woman, but the distorted remnant of one. A shiver ran down his spine.
"You bain't thinkin' of--of tryin' to get about?"
"Me not gettin' about? Iss. You've never seen me settin' down wi' me
'ands folded."
"But you'll find things'll be different now," he stammered. He thought
of the trolly as some sort of wheel-chair. He had no conception of his
wife's inventiveness or of her indifference to comment. "You've been a
strong woman, but you can't look to be that again."
The resolute look he knew so well came into Sabina's eyes, and for a
moment he doubted whether after all she would not conquer her
disabilities. "I bain't strong now," she said, "but a month or two'll
make all the difference. I'll soon be up and about again."
The momentary doubt passed. "I wouldn't make too sure of that, then,"
he told her. The fact that Wastralls had not so much flat land as would
make a football field was reassuring. No wheel-chair, whatever the
power of its directing will, could climb up and down those fields.
"I'm hopin'," said Sabina obstinately, "to teel Wastralls as I 'av
before."
"We must see 'ow you do frame."
"Bain't a matter of gettin' about," she continued, guessing his
thoughts. "I know Wastralls like the palm of my hand, every 'itch and
stitch of it, and the 'inds'll carry out my orders. I can trust old
George Biddick to see as the others do their work. I've planned it
all."
"And me?" asked Leadville grimly.
"My dear feller, you don't like farmin', you wouldn't make no 'and at
it, you an' your old rigmaroles."
"I c'd teel Wastralls so as it brought in double what you get now."