"Well, well, I call her 'little' because her mother's name is Mary.
But, as I was saying, she takes Mary in a coaxing sort of way, and
'Mary,' says she, 'what should you think if I sent for you some day
and made a lady of you?' So I could not stand such talk as that to
my girl, and I said, 'Thou'd best not put that nonsense i' the
girl's head I can tell thee; I'd rather see her earning her bread by
the sweat of brow, as the Bible tells her she should do, ay, though
she never got butter to her bread, than be like a do-nothing lady,
worrying shopmen all morning, and screeching at her pianny all
afternoon, and going to bed without having done a good turn to any
one of God's creatures but herself.'"
"Thou never could abide the gentlefolk," said Wilson, half amused at
his friend's vehemence.
"And what good have they ever done me that I should like them?"
asked Barton, the latent fire lighting up his eye: and bursting
forth he continued, "If I am sick do they come and nurse me? If my
child lies dying (as poor Tom lay, with his white wan lips
quivering, for want of better food than I could give him), does the
rich man bring the wine or broth that might save his life? If I am
out of work for weeks in the bad times, and winter comes, with black
frost, and keen east wind, and there is no coal for the grate, and
no clothes for the bed, and the thin bones are seen through the
ragged clothes, does the rich man share his plenty with me, as he
ought to do, if his religion wasn't a humbug? When I lie on my
death-bed and Mary (bless her!) stands fretting, as I know she will
fret," and here his voice faltered a little, "will a rich lady come
and take her to her own home if need be, till she can look round,
and see what best to do? No, I tell you it's the poor, and the poor
only, as does such things for the poor.
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