"Good. If yer finished arguing like fish gutters, yer'll listen to me." Lottie put her hands on her hips, the spoon pointing skyward like a weapon.

"Joe, yer an idiot. Not for standin' up for the lass, of that you can be proud. No, but for fillin' up with liquor. I mean, honestly. If ye had just come home and told me, it would 'ave been alright. Instead I have to hear... it... in court from the bloody magistrate. My son in the dock! The shame of it! John was willful, but you..."

she wagged her spoon.

"Get drunk once more young man, and you will never set foot in this house again. I promise ye."

Without waiting to see if her son agreed or understood, she turned her anger toward her husband.

"And you... 'a bloody disgrace'.. you of all people, William Blacke, can talk about being a disgrace. You were a young man once, and you did a lot worse than get pickled like a herrin'. I know. Show some compassion, if you're able, and stand up fer yerself and others against what ye know to be wrong."

She breathed out and smoothed out her apron. Her eyes darted between the two men daring either of them to say a word other than "yes mam or yes dear."

"Now, who wants some tea?"