"Ruth!" Lottie exclaimed, the violent outburst so out of character for her. She knew Bill capable of such, and had seen it over the years; the boys too could be imagined to do similar, there was a Blacke streak of hot temper in the family, rarely shown but always present. Lottie jumped to her feet and headlong into mothering mode.

"I know I said I wanted a bigger kitchen, but that's mad," she said hurridly as she moved to splint her daughter's injured hand with a rag. "You might have to see Doctor Wells for this. I know yer angry; I know you want to cut off his knackers, paint them gold, and swap them for the Whitby lighthouse lamp as a warning to other scoundrels not to try the same tricks, but punching walls; how will that help Jacob?"