But all this only made me fret the more; my heart was so broken that I touched no food, and I kept on asking every man, who looked at all like an authority, to please to get me sent to prison for seven years' hard labour. Finding no one ready to do this, I banished myself to the coal-cellar, and had a fresh cry with the maid, whenever she came to fill the scuttles. For no one else came near me now, my poor mother being unwell upstairs, and the command of the house handed over to people, who called themselves her nearest relatives; and were so, if Uncle Bill had met with a watery grave, as was supposed. These people were the Stareys of Stoke Newington,--a widow lady, and her two unmarried daughters, beginning now to be old maids. Mrs. Starey was mother's half-sister, yearly fifteen years the elder; and so her daughters were my half first cousins, and might have tried to help me. Mother said afterwards, when she came to know of all their conduct, that they did their best to send me after father; and for a very good reason of their own--if I were out of the way, they would be the nearest to her (if Uncle Bill were drowned, as they had reason to hope of him) and under my father's will that might be of no little service to them. But it is not in my nature, to believe that they would act so. And even by seeming so to do, they lost all chance of everything. So much wiser, as well as sweeter, is it in the long run for us, to be kind to one another. But to dwell upon this, is hateful to me, and I cannot bear ill-will. Most likely the truth was simply this, that they had quite enough to do, with mother lying ill, and father dead, and could not be bothered with me as well, and therefore, were glad to be quit of me, saying that a boy's grief soon forgets itself. And if I did not eat, it was because I was not hungry; but time and youth would soon cure that. And perhaps they might have done so.