Part 2 (2/2)

”Been ill these two months,” he replied in a weak voice.

”Sit down,” said Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l, pus.h.i.+ng the best chair to her sister-in-law, and standing by the table to resume her work.

”We did not know Tom was ill,” said Mrs. Rowles.

”I daresay not,” answered Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l.

”I would have come sooner to see him if I had known.”

”Oh, it is no use to bother one's relations when one falls into misfortunes. It is the rich folks who are welcome, not the poor ones.”

”I hope you will make _me_ welcome,” said Mrs. Rowles, ”though I am not rich.”

”Well, you are richer than we are,” remarked Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l, softening a little, ”and you are welcome; I can't say more. But I daresay if you had known what a place you were coming to you would have thought twice about it. Six months we have had of it. First there were the changes made at the printing-office, and then the men struck work, and there was soon very little to live on; for it's when the strike allowance doesn't come in so fast that the pinch comes.”

Mrs. Rowles looked round to see where the children could be hiding.

Not a child's garment was to be seen, nor a toy.

”Where are the children?” she asked, half fearing to hear that they were all dead.

”Albert has got a little place in the printing-office. He was took on when Tom was laid up with rheumatic fever. Juliet is gone to the kitchen to try if she can get a drop of soup or something. They only make it for sick people now the hot weather has set in. Florry and Tommy and Willie and Neddy are all at school, because the school-board officer came round about them the other day. But it is the church school as they go to, where they ain't kept up to it quite so sharp.

They will be in presently.”

”And the baby?”

”Oh, the baby is out with Amy. He's that fractious with his teeth that Thomas can hardly put up with him in the house.”

Mrs. Rowles was now taking out the good things from her basket. She produced a piece of bacon, some beans, about a peck of peas, a home-made dripping cake, and some new-laid eggs.

”Edward packed it with his own hands,” she explained. ”He hoped you would not be too proud to accept a few bits of things from the country.”

”Proud? Me proud?” and Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l burst into tears.

”We are too hungry to be proud,” said the sick man, with more interest in his tone. ”They do smell good. They remind me of the country.”

After rubbing her eyes Mrs. Rowles looked about for a saucepan, and, having found an old one in the cupboard, began to fill it with the bacon and the broad beans. ”We killed a pig in the spring,” she said; ”and Rowles is a rare one to keep his garden stuff going.”

Little was said while Mrs. Rowles cooked, and Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l sewed, and Thomas sniffed the reviving green odour of the fresh vegetables. This quiet was presently interrupted by the sound of someone coming up the stairs.

Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l listened. ”That is Juliet. There! I expected it!”

And a crash was heard, and a cry, and they knew that something unpleasant had happened.

”There never was such a child!” said the mother; while the father moaned out, ”Oh, dear!”

Mrs. Rowles went out on the landing at the top of the stairs, and saw a girl of about thirteen sitting crouched on the lower half of the double flight, beside her the broken remains of a jug, and some soup lying in a pool, which she was trying to sc.r.a.pe up with her fingers, sucking them after each attempt.

”Is that you, Juliet?” said her aunt.

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