She loved her next to me and
Mary, and she's never been the same body since poor Tom's death.
However, let's go back to them; your old woman may have done her
good."
As they walked homewards with a brisker pace, Wilson expressed a
wish that they still were the near neighbours they once had been.
"Still our Alice lives in the cellar under No. 14, in Barber Street,
and if you'd only speak the word she'd be with you in five minutes
to keep your wife company when she's lonesome. Though I'm Alice's
brother, and perhaps ought not to say it, I will say there's none
more ready to help with heart or hand than she is. Though she may
have done a hard day's wash, there's not a child ill within the
street, but Alice goes to offer to sit up, and does sit up, too,
though may be she's to be at her work by six next morning."
"She's a poor woman, and can feel for the poor, Wilson," was
Barton's reply; and then he added, "Thank you kindly for your offer,
and mayhap I may trouble her to be a bit with my wife, for while I'm
at work, and Mary's at school, I know she frets above a bit.
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