"This comes of letting the Government and the masters have their own way! If we had that there strike among us, that I've so often told ye on, things would be different. Let a man sit down a minute, Cross." Cross civilly pushed a chair towards him, concentrating his attention afterwards upon Mrs. Fisher. A crowd had collected round her; and Mrs. Buffle, with a feeling of humanity that few had given that lady credit for possessing, sent out an old woollen shawl to the shivering woman, and a basin of hasty pudding. The mother could not feed the whining children fast enough with the one iron spoon. A young man ran up to Cross's door. It was Adam Thorneycroft. He did not live in Honey Fair, but often found his way to it, although Charlotte had rejected him. "Is Joe Fisher here?" asked he. "Fisher, why don't you go to the workhouse and tell them the state your wife is in? She can't stop there." "Her state is no concern of your'n, Master Thorneycroft," was the sullen answer. Thorneycroft turned on his heel, a scornful gesture escaping him at Fisher's half-stupid condition. "I must be off to my work," he observed; "but can't one of you, who are gentlemen at large, just go to the workhouse and acquaint them with the woman's helplessness, and that of her children around her?" Timothy Carter responded to it. "I'll go," said he; "I haven't nothing to do with myself this afternoon." Timothy and Adam walked away together, Tim treading with gingerly feet past his own door, lest his wife should recognise his step, bolt out, and stop him. Charlotte East was standing at her door, and Adam halted. Timothy walked on: he did not feel himself perfectly safe yet. "What a life that poor woman's is!" exclaimed Charlotte. "Ay," assented Adam; "and all through Fisher's not sticking to his work." Charlotte moved her face gravely towards him. "Say through his drinking, Adam." "Do you speak that as a warning, Charlotte?" he continued. "I think you mean well by me, but you go just the wrong way to show it. If you wanted me to keep steady, you should have come and helped me in it. Good-bye. I am late." "Gentlemen at large, young Thorney called us!" cried Jacob Cross to his friend Brumm, as Fisher went off and they sat down again. "He's not far out. What's to be the end on't?" "Why, the work'us," responded Mrs. Cross, who rarely let an opportunity slip of putting in her own opinion. "The work'us for us as well as for the Fishers, unless things take a turn. When great, big, able-bodied men is throwed out o' work, and yet has to eat and drink, and other folks at home has to eat and drink, and nothing to stay their stomachs upon, the work'us can't be far off." "Never for me!" said Andrew Brumm. "I'll work to keep me and mine out on it, if it is at breaking stones upon the road. I know one thing--if ever I do get into certain work again, I'll make my missis be a bit providenter than she was before."