“I sha’n’t find anywhere so nice as this bank,” said Clare, turning and looking at it sorrowfully. “There are plenty of places in the town. It’s but a mile farther on!” “But this is so much nicer, ma’am! And I’ve no money--none at all, ma’am. When I came out of prison,--” “Came out of _where_?” “Out of prison, ma’am.” He had never been in prison in a legal sense, never having been convicted of anything; but he did not know the difference between detention and imprisonment. “Prison!” she exclaimed, holding up her hands in horror. “How dare you mention prison!” “Because I was in it, ma’am.” “And to say it so coolly too! Are you not ashamed of yourself?” “No, ma’am.” “It’s a shame to have been in prison.” “Not if I didn’t do anything wrong.” “Nobody will believe that, I’m afraid!” “I suppose not, ma’am! I used to feel very angry when people wouldn’t believe me, but now I see they are not to blame. And now I’ve got used to it, and it don’t hurt so much.--But,” he added with a sigh, “the worst of it is, they won’t give me any work!” “Do you always tell people you’ve come out of prison?” “Yes, ma’am, when I think of it.” “Then you can’t wonder they won’t give you work!” “I don’t, ma’am--not now. It seems a law of the universe!” “Not of the universe, I think--but of this world--perhaps!” said the old lady thoughtfully. “But there’s one thing I do wonder at,” said Clare. “When I say I’ve been in prison, they believe me; but when I say I haven’t done anything wrong, then they mock me, and seem quite amused at being expected to believe that. I can’t get at it!” “I daresay! But people will always believe you against yourself.--What are you going to do, then, if nobody will give you work? You can’t starve!” “Indeed I _can_, ma’am! It’s just the one thing I’ve got to do. We’ve been pretty near the last of it sometimes--me and Abdiel! Haven’t we, Abby?” The dog wagged his tail, and the old lady turned aside to control her feelings. “Don’t cry, ma’am,” said Clare; “I don’t mind it--not _much_. I’m too glad I didn’t _do_ anything, to mind it much! Why should I! Ought I to mind it much, ma’am? Jesus Christ hadn’t done anything, and they killed _him_! I don’t fancy it’s so very bad to die of only hunger! But we’ll soon see!--Sha’n’t we, Abby?” Again the dog wagged his tail. “If you didn’t do anything wrong, what _did_ you do?” said the old lady, almost at her wits’ end. “I don’t like telling things that are not going to be believed. It’s like washing your face with ink!” “I will _try_ to believe you.” “Then I will tell you; for you speak the truth, ma’am, and so, perhaps, will be able to believe the truth!” “How do you know I speak the truth?” “Because you didn’t say, ‘I will believe you.’ Nobody can be sure of doing that. But you can be sure of _trying_; and you said, ‘I will _try_ to believe you.’” “Tell me all about it then.”