But he won't come before twelve o'clock; I know
he won't. An' I get that low sittin' 'ere, you can't think I can't
go nowhere, because o' the children. If it wasn't for them I could
go to work again, an' I'd be that glad; I feel as if my 'ed would
drop off sometimes! I _ham_ so glad you just come in!'
Jane had tried so many forms of encouragement, of consolation, on
previous occasions that she knew not how to repeat herself. She was
ashamed to speak words which sounded so hollow and profitless. This
silence was only too significant to Pennyloaf, and in a moment she
exclaimed with querulous energy:
'I know what'll be the bend of it! I'll go an' do like mother does--I
will! I will! I'll put my ring away, an' I'll go an' sit all
night in the public-'ouse! It's what all the others does, an' I'll
do the same. I often feel I'm a fool to go on like this. I don't
know what I live for, P'r'aps he'll be sorry when I get run in like
mother.'
'Don't talk like that, Pennyloaf!' cried Jane, stamping her foot,
(It was odd how completely difference of character had reversed
their natural relations to each other; Pennyloaf was the child, Jane
the mature woman.
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