“Pore feller indeed!” cried Mrs. Hewson indignantly. “Why, bain’t ’e dead sot on me, and wouldn’t ’e rayther ’ave my tongue any day than another gal’s palavers? What else should ’e be so stay-at-’ome for, I’d like to know? Pore feller! What next?” She settled her hat on her head with a quick, irritated movement, but the next minute she laughed again. “But belike you fancy a man allers a-dancin’ round you,” laughed she. “Some gals do. I can swop a buss now and then as well as most, but I like to get it over o’ proper times.” Milly blushed, and shifted the baby to the other arm. “I thought as iverybody liked their man to get time to admire ’em a bit,” said she shyly. “Is that what ye be after?” laughed Martha. “Lord, I wouldn’t give much for Bill’s taste. ’E don’t know black from blue.” “’E ’ave ’ad the taste ye wanted ’im to ’ave, I s’pose,” retorted the little woman—“’e ’ave ’ad the taste to fancy you!” Her delicate face flushed, and there was just a tinge of spite in her tone, for could she not remember the day when Mr. Hewson’s taste had not been for dark, powerful girls? “Oh, yes, ’e ’ave ’ad _that_,” assented the other in an off-hand way. "He knowed I were the only one as could ha’ made hanythink of ’im. If ’e ’ad ha’ married a pore gumptionless soul like some"—and Martha looked out of the corner of the eye at her hostess—“’e wouldn’t ha’ been nowhere! ’E needs a good strong, smart gal, ’e do, pore soul! Ye wouldn’t b’lieve the time I be seein’ to ’im—as good as gold, but a pore shiftless crittur! If it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t ’ave bite nor sup to put in our mouths. I be forced to put spunk into _’im_ same time as I work for the lot.” “I wouldn’t ha’ believed it,” said Milly Moss, rocking the child. “Ah, you may then,” declared Martha emphatically. “It be a good job I ain’t got no little ’un yet, for I’d ’ave two to see to then. You be to be envied, you be, with a great, fine, strappin’ feller for a ’usbin’ what knows ’is own mind, and....” And Martha stopped abruptly, for it had crossed her memory that she had once upbraided Dan Moss in her heart for _not_ knowing his own mind, and a quick dart of vexation ran through her because, in the heat of the hour, she had both praised the man who had not followed up his attentions to her, and run down the man who had. She bit her lip and thought how she could repair her error, but her turn for speech was gone.