“’Tis easy to say ‘in time,’” groaned poor Alice, “but we do find it so hard to get on now, mother. We’ve a-had sich bad luck, ye see. Ned had to spend the bit o’ money he’d saved on the furniture we wanted, an’ stockin’ the garden—’tisn’t as if we’d anybody to help us.” Mrs Bolt eyed her daughter compassionately. She was a good-looking, fresh-coloured woman, with a kindly, good-natured face. Her daughter resembled her in complexion and build, but not in disposition, for Mrs Bolt was placid and easy-going, while Alice had inherited her father’s energy and quickness of temper. Mrs Bolt had been as much grieved as her husband at Alice’s unprosperous marriage, but, having protested in vain, resigned herself to the inevitable, and had indeed forgiven her daughter before the ceremony took place. Mr Bolt, too, had, to outward seeming, become reconciled with his daughter, though he steadily refused to permit her husband to cross the threshold, and to help the hapless couple in any way. Alice, too, was proud, and when her mother would have surreptitiously bestowed on her sundry dozens of eggs and pecks of potatoes, she had rejected the gifts. “I won’t take nothin’ o’ father’s wi’out his consent,” she said once, bitterly. “An’ you do know so well as me, he’d rather let us all starve nor help Ned.” “’Tis very hard, I’m sure,” said Mrs Bolt, now in a commiserating tone. “I did hope your husband ’ud better hisself, an’ earn better wage nor what father gived en. But he’s worse off now it seems.” “He’s terr’ble bad off,” agreed Alice gloomily. “Jobs be so scarce round our way. An’ when Ned was out o’ work last spring along o’ his accident, we got into debt. There’s the interest to pay along wi’ everything else. We couldn’t afford to be too particular. Ned had to take the first place he could get—’tis but ten shillin’ a week he’s earnin’ now, along o’ havin’ a house free, ye know. But ten shillin’ a week’s soon gone.” “’Tis, sure,” agreed her mother dolefully. Alice looked up at the handsome, ruddy face now puckered with sympathetic distress, and hesitated. It is sometimes harder to ask a favour from our nearest and dearest than from a stranger. “I wonder if you could guess what’s brought me this morning, mother?” she asked. Mrs Bolt did not commit herself. “Ned chanced to meet Jim Pike at Wimborne the other day. He had to go and haul coal, you know, fro’ the station. And Jim did tell en he were thinkin’ o’ leavin’ father arter Christmas an’ goin’ out abroad.” “Ees,” said Mrs Bolt. “Jim be a-goin’ to emmygrate, that’s what he be a-goin’ to do. He’ve a had a letter from his brother what be livin’ out yonder in America, and do want en to j’ine en out there. Jim be fair set on the notion.” “He did tell Ned as father had rose his wage to fourteen shillin’ a week. ’Tis good wage that, an’ there’s the house too. ’Tis a deal more nor what Ned be earnin’.”