“I didn’t desire ye to.” Mrs. Ashcroft smiled. “I saw ’Arry once or twice in de street, wonnerful fleshed up an’ restored back. Then, one day I didn’t see ’im, an’ ’is mother told me one of ’is ’orses ’ad lashed out an’ caught ’im on the ’ip. So ’e was abed an’ middlin’ painful. An’ Bessie, she says to his mother, ’twas a pity ’Arry ’adn’t a woman of ’is own to take the nursin’ off ’er. And the old lady _was_ mad! She told us that ’Arry ’ad never looked after any woman in ’is born days, an’ as long as she was atop the mowlds, she’d contrive for ’im till ’er two ’ands dropped off. So I knowed she’d do watch-dog for me, ’thout askin’ for bones.” Mrs. Fettley rocked with small laughter. “That day,” Mrs. Ashcroft went on, “I’d stood on me feet nigh all the time, watchin’ the doctor go in an’ out; for they thought it might be ’is ribs, too. That made my boil break again, issuin’ an’ weepin’. But it turned out ’twadn’t ribs at all, an’ ’Arry ’ad a good night. When I heard that, nex’ mornin’, I says to meself, ‘I won’t lay two an’ two together _yit_. I’ll keep me leg down a week, an’ see what comes of it.’ It didn’t hurt me that day, to speak of--’seemed more to draw the strength out o’ me like--an’ ’Arry ’ad another good night. That made me persevere; but I didn’t dare lay two an’ two together till the week-end, an’ then, ’Arry come forth e’en a’most ’imself again--na’un hurt outside ner in of him. I nigh fell on me knees in de wash-house when Bessie was up-street. ‘I’ve got ye now, my man,’ I says, ‘You’ll take your good from me ’thout knowin’ it till my life’s end. O God send me long to live for ’Arry’s sake!’ I says. An’ I dunno that didn’t still me ragin’s.” “For good?” Mrs. Fettley asked. “They come back, plenty times, but, let be how ’twould, I knowed I was doin’ for ’im. I _knowed_ it. I took an’ worked me pains on an’ off, like regulatin’ my own range, till I learned to ’ave ’em at my commandments. An’ that was funny, too. There was times, Liz, when my trouble ’ud all s’rink an’ dry up, like. First, I used to try an’ fetch it on again; bein’ fearful to leave ’Arry alone too long for anythin’ to lay ’old of. Prasin’ly I come to see that was a sign he’d do all right awhile, an’ so I saved myself.” “’Ow long for?” Mrs. Fettley asked, with deepest interest. “I’ve gone de better part of a year onct or twice with na’un more to show than the liddle weepin’ core of it, like. _All_ s’rinked up an’ dried off. Then he’d inflame up--for a warnin’--an’ I’d suffer it. When I couldn’t no more--an’ I _’ad_ to keep on goin’ with my Lunnon work--I’d lay me leg high on a cheer till it eased. Not too quick. I knowed by the feel of it, those times, dat ’Arry was in need. Then I’d send another five shillin’s to Bess, or somethin’ for the chillern, to find out if, mebbe, ’e’d took any hurt through my neglects. ’Twas _so_! Year in, year out, I worked it dat way, Liz, an’ ’e got ’is good from me ’thout knowin’--for years and years.”