“Fancy! An’ how funny as you should ha’ married your Mester. You know he’s quite a famous one for dancing.”
“I didn’t know he was famous,” laughed Mrs. Morel. “Yea, he is though! Why, he ran that dancing-class in the Miners’ Arms club-room for over five year.”
“Did he?”
“Yes, he did.” The other woman was defiant. “An’it was thronged every Tuesday, and Thursday, an’Sat’day — an’ there WAS carryin’s-on, accordin’ to all accounts.”
This kind of thing was gall and bitterness to Mrs. Morel, and she had a fair share of it. The women did not spare her, at first; for she was superior, though she could not help it.