"He'll have had a drop of
something," she said, "before he comes home. They gets a cold feelin' in
the stomach in them places, poor creatures!"
The old butler's heart quavered up into his mouth. He lifted his shaking
hand, and put it to his lips, as though to readjust himself.
"Oh yes," he said; "I ought to ha' given notice, and took my things
away; but there, poor woman, it seemed a-hittin' of her when she was
down. And I don't want to make no move. I ain't got no one else that's
interested in me. This woman's very good about mendin' of my clothes. Oh
dear, yes; she don't grudge a little thing like that!"
The lame woman hobbled from her post of rest, and began to make the
bed with the frown that always accompanied a task which strained the
contracted muscles of her leg. "If you don't help your neighbour, your
neighbour don't help you," she said sententiously.
Creed fixed his iron-rimmed gaze on her in silence. He was considering
perhaps how he stood with regard to Hughs in the light of that remark.
"I attended of his baby's funeral," he said. "Oh dear, he's here
a'ready!"
The family of Hughs, indeed, stood in the doorway. The spiritual process
by which "Westminister" had gone through life was displayed completely
in the next few seconds. 'It's so important for me to keep alive and
well,' his eyes seemed saying.
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