[{"node":{"title":"Hanna217","Collections":"Part Three","Contributor":"Linen Hall Library","Coverage":"1951","Creator":"Linen Hall Library","Date":"Thursday, April 7, 2016","Format":"TIFF","Identifier":"Hanna217","Item Description":"Manuscript","Keywords":"Frank, Hamilton","Language":"English","Path":"https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/content/hanna217","Publisher":"Linen Hall Library","Relation":"Linen Hall Library","Rights":"Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike CC BY-NC-SA","Scanned image":{"src":"https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/sites/default/files/Hanna217_0.jpg","alt":""},"Source":"LHL Archive","Transcript":"\ufeff210\n\nChapter Five\n\nAs Andrew and Martha grew up, Frank found less\nwork to do in the fields, and spent most of his waking\nday in the barns and byres but rarely in the house, for\nhe was obsessed with the idea that Sarah wanted him out\nof the way. And so he made jobs for himself, that he\nmight still claim some part in the life of the farm.\nMany times Hamilton had asked him to relinquish his\nwork, assuring him that he, more than anyone, could\nrest and take it easy.\n\n\"D'ye say rest?\" Frank turned his face up to his\nbrother who leaned over the half-door of the mealshed,\nwatching him draw a waxend through a broken fragment of\nharness, \"Rest, and let that witch fault me for doing\nno work about the place?\" He rose and shambled over to\nthe door, Putting his face close to his brother's he\nwhispered: \"That's where she wants me, ye know.\" He\npointed to the ground, winked, put a finger to his lips,\nand shambled back to his stool. Hamilton stood silent\nfor a moment. \"What the hell are ye blethering about,\nman?\" he said. Frank looked up, smiled twistedly, and\nnodded. \"I'm telling you\" he added. Hamilton kicked\nthe half-door open, strode in, and stood over his brother.\n\"What witch - what d'ye mean?\" Frank dropped the harness\nfrom his hands, hands still lean and brown and finely\nshaped. He raised his face to his brother with a child-\nlike smile. Slowly Hamilton laid his hands on the\nmisshapen shoulders and sank down on his kness beside\nFrank. \"Frankie boy, are we bad to ye? Are we hasty in\nthe tongue wi' ye, at times? God knows, Frankie, but we\ndont mean to be, we dont mean to be.\"\n","Type":"Text"}}]