'
"Little mite of a thing! and yet it seemed her angel come back to
comfort me. I were quite jealous o' Jennings whenever he went near
the babby. I thought it were more my flesh and blood than his'n,
and yet I were afraid he would claim it. However, that were far
enough fra' his thoughts; he'd plenty other childer, and, as I found
out after, he'd all along been wishing me to take it. Well, we
buried Margaret and her husband in a big, crowded, lonely churchyard
in London. I were loath to leave them there, as I thought, when
they rose again, they'd feel so strange at first away fra'
Manchester, and all old friends; but it could na be helped. Well,
God watches o'er their graves there as well as here. That funeral
cost a mint o' money, but Jennings and I wished to do th' thing
decent. Then we'd the stout little babby to bring home. We'd not
overmuch money left; but it were fine weather, and we thought we'd
take th' coach to Brummagem, and walk on. It were a bright May
morning when I last saw London town, looking back from a big hill a
mile or two off.
Pages:
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222