_Sus_. You can't walk, child. If I hadn't been so short o' wittles for a week, I could ha' carried you. But it's only a step to the cook-shop. _Mat_. No money, Sue. (_Tries to walk_.) _Sus_. O Lord! What _shall_ I do! And that blue-bottle there a buzzin' an' a starin' at us like a dead codfish!--Boh! _Enter_ BILL. _Bill_. Our Mattie! Gracious! what's the row, Susan? _Sus_. She ain't well. Take her other arm, Bill, and help her out o' this. We ain't in no Christian country. Pluck up, Mattie, dear. _Bill_. Come into the tart-shop. I'm a customer. _They go towards the shop. Exit_ POLICEMAN. _Mat_. No, no, Sukey! I can't abide the smell of it. Let me sit on the kerb for a minute. (_Sits down_.) Oh, father! father! _Bill_. Never you mind, Mattie! If he wor twenty fathers, he shan't come near ye. _Mat_. Oh, Bill! if you could find him for me! He would take me home. _Bill_. Now who'd ha' thought o' that? Axially wantin' her own father! I'd run far enough out o' the way o' mine--an' farther if he wur a-axin' arter me. _Mat_. Oh me! my side! _Sus_. It's hunger, poor dear! (_Sits down beside her_.) _Bill_ (_aside_). This won't do, Bill! I'm a shamed o' _you_, Bill! _Exit_. _Mat_. No, Susan, it's not hunger. It's the old story, Sue. _Sus_. Mattie! I never! You don't mean to go for to tell me you're a breakin' of your precious heart about _him_? It's not your gentleman sure_ly_! It's not _him_ ye're turnin' sick about, this time o' day? MATTIE _nods her head listlessly_. _Sus_. What's up fresh, then? You was pretty bobbish when you left me. It's little he thinks of _you_, I'll be bound. _Mat_. That's true enough. It's little he ever thought of me. He _did_ say he loved me, though. It's fifty times he did! _Sus_. Lies, lies, Mattie--all lies! _Mat_. No, Susan; it wasn't lies. He meant it--at the time. That's what made it look all right. Oh dear! Oh dear! _Sus_. But what's come to you now, Mattie? What's fresh in it? You're not turned like this all at once for nothink! _Mat_. I've seen him! _Sus_. Seen him! Oh, my! I wish it had been me. _I_'d ha' seen him! I'd ha' torn his ugly eyes out. _Mat_. They ain't ugly eyes. They're big and blue, and they sparkle so when he talks to her! _Sus_. And who's _her_? Ye didn't mention a _her_. Some brazen-faced imperence! _Mat_. No. The young lady at Mrs. Clifford's. _Sus_. Oho! See if I do a stitch for her!--Shan't I leave a needle in _her_ shimmy, just! _Mat_. What _shall_ I do! All the good's gone out of me! And such a pain here! _Sus_. Keep in yer breath a minute, an' push yer ribs out. It's one on 'em's got a top o' the other. _Mat_. Such a grand creature! And her colour coming and going like the shadows on the corn! It's no wonder he forgot poor me. But it'll burn itself out afore long. _Sus_. Don't ye talk like that, Mattie; I can't abear it.