Says I, 'Esther, I
see what you'll end at with your artificials, and your fly-away
veils, and stopping out when honest women are in their beds:
you'll be a street-walker, Esther, and then, don't you go to think
I'll have you darken my door, though my wife is your sister?' So
says she, 'Don't trouble yourself, John, I'll pack up and be off
now, for I'll never stay to hear myself called as you call me.' She
flushed up like a turkey-cock, and I thought fire would come out of
her eyes; but when she saw Mary cry (for Mary can't abide words in a
house), she went and kissed her, and said she was not so bad as I
thought her. So we talked more friendly, for, as I said, I liked
the lass well enough, and her pretty looks, and her cheery ways.
But she said (and at that time I thought there was sense in what she
said) we should be much better friends if she went into lodgings,
and only came to see us now and then."
"Then you still were friendly. Folks said you'd cast her off, and
said you'd never speak to her again."
"Folks always make one a deal worse than one is," said John Barton
testily.
Pages:
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33