Domestic fiction; England -- Fiction; Mothers and sons -- Fiction; Unmarried mothers -- Fiction; Women household employees -- Fiction
"Don't cry, mother," said Esther. "I have been very wicked, I know, but
God will be good to me. I always pray to him, just as you taught me to do,
and I daresay I shall get through my trouble somehow."
"Your father will never let you stop 'ere; 'e'll say, just as afore, that
there be too many mouths to feed as it is."
"I don't want him to keep me for nothing--I know well enough if I did that
'e'd put me outside quick enough. But I can pay my way. I earned good
money while I was with the Barfields, and though she did tell me I must
go, Mrs. Barfield--the Saint they call her, and she is a saint if ever
there was one--gave me four pounds to see me, as she said, through my
trouble. I've better than eleven pound. Don't cry, mother dear; crying
won't do no good, and I want you to help me. So long as the money holds
out I can get a lodging anywhere, but I'd like to be near you; and father
might be glad to let me have the parlour and my food for ten or eleven
shillings a week--I could afford as much as that, and he never was the man
to turn good money from his door. Do yer think he will?"
"I dunno, dearie; 'tis hard to say what 'e'll do; he's a 'ard man to live
with. I've 'ad a terrible time of it lately, and them babies allus coming.
Ah, we poor women have more than our right to bear with!"
"Poor mother!" said Esther, and, taking her mother's hand in hers, she
passed her arm round her, drew her closer, and kissed her. "I know what he
was; is he any worse now?"
"Well, I think he drinks more, and is even rougher. It was only the other
day, just as I was attending to his dinner--it was a nice piece of steak,
and it looked so nice that I cut off a weany piece to taste. He sees me do
it, and he cries out, 'Now then, guts, what are you interfering with my
dinner for?' I says, 'I only cut off a tiny piece to taste.' 'Well, then,
taste that,' he says, and strikes me clean between the eyes. Ah, yes,
lucky for you to be in service; you've half forgot by now what we've to
put up with 'ere."
"You was always that soft with him, mother; he never touched me since I
dashed the hot water in his face."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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