Her look was very honest and gentle, with
pathetic meanings for whoso had the eye to catch them; a peculiar
mobility of the lips somehow made one think that she had often to
exert herself to keep down tears. She spoke in a subdued voice,
always briefly, and with a certain natural refinement in the use of
uncultured language. When Mrs. Mutimer ceased, Emma kept silence,
and smoothed the front of her jacket with an unconscious movement of
the hand.
Mrs. Mutimer glanced at her and showed commiseration.
'Well, well, don't you worrit about it, Emma,' she said; 'you've
quite enough on your hands. Dick don't care--not he; be couldn't
look more high-flyin' if someone had left him a fortune. He says
it's the best thing as could happen. Nay, I can't explain; he'll
tell you plenty soon as he gets in. Cut yourself some meat, child,
do, and don't wait for me to help you. See, I'll turn you out some
potatoes; you don't care for the greens, I know.'
The fry had hissed vigorously whilst this conversation went on; the
results were brown and unctuous.
'Now, if it ain't too bad!' cried the old woman, losing
self-control. 'That 'Arry gets later every Sunday, and be knows very
well as I have to wait for the beer till he comes.'
I'll fetch it,' said Emma, rising.
'You indeed! I'd like to see Dick if he caught me a-sending you to
the public-house.
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