“But what did _you_ get out of it, Gra’?” Mrs. Fettley almost wailed. “Did ye see ’im reg’lar?” “Times--when I was ’ere on me ’ol’days. An’ more, now that I’m ’ere for good. But ’e’s never looked at me, ner any other woman ’cept ’is mother. ’Ow I used to watch an’ listen! So did she.” “Years an’ years!” Mrs. Fettley repeated. “An’ where’s ’e workin’ at now?” “Oh, ’e’s give up carterin’ quite a while. He’s workin’ for one o’ them big tractorisin’ firms--ploughin’ sometimes, an’ sometimes off with lorries--fur as Wales, I’ve ’eard. He comes ’ome to ’is mother ’tween whiles; but I don’t set eyes on him now, fer weeks on end. No odds! ’Is job keeps ’im from continuin’ in one stay anywheres.” “But--just for de sake o’ saying’ somethin’--s’pose ’Arry _did_ get married?” said Mrs. Fettley. Mrs. Ashcroft drew her breath sharply between her still even and natural teeth. “_Dat_ ain’t been required of me,” she answered. “I reckon my pains ’ull be counted agin that. Don’t _you_, Liz?” “It ought to be, dearie. It ought to be.” “It _do_ ’urt sometimes. You shall see it when Nurse comes. She thinks I don’t know it’s turned.” Mrs. Fettley understood. Human nature seldom walks up to the word “cancer.” “Be ye certain sure, Gra’?” she asked. “I was sure of it when old Mr. Marshall ’ad me up to ’is study an’ spoke a long piece about my faithful service. I’ve obliged ’em on an’ off for a goodish time, but not enough for a pension. But they give me a weekly ’lowance for life. I knew what _that_ sinnified--as long as three years ago.” “Dat don’t _prove_ it, Gra’.” “To give fifteen bob a week to a woman ’oo’d live twenty year in the course o’ nature? It _do_!” “You’re mistook! You’re mistook!” Mrs. Fettley insisted. “Liz, there’s _no_ mistakin’ when the edges are all heaped up, like--same as a collar. You’ll see it. An’ I laid out Dora Wickwood, too. _She_ ’ad it under the arm-pit, like.” Mrs. Fettley considered awhile, and bowed her head in finality. “’Ow long d’you reckon ’twill allow ye, countin’ from now, dearie?” “Slow come, slow go. But if I don’t set eyes on ye ’fore next hoppin’, this’ll be good-bye, Liz.” “Dunno as I’ll be able to manage by then--not ’thout I have a liddle dog to lead me. For de chillern, dey won’t be troubled, an’--O Gra’!--I’m blindin’ up--I’m blindin’ up!” “Oh, _dat_ was why you didn’t more’n finger with your quilt-patches all this while! I was wonderin’.... But the pain _do_ count, don’t ye think, Liz? The pain _do_ count to keep ’Arry--where I want ’im. Say it can’t be wasted, like.” “I’m sure of it--sure of it, dearie. You’ll ’ave your reward.” “I don’t want no more’n this--_if_ de pain is taken into de reckonin’.” “’Twill be--’twill be, Gra’.” There was a knock on the door. “That’s Nurse. She’s before ’er time,” said Mrs. Ashcroft. “Open to ’er.”