"Work for it!" he cried, with a laugh, and immediately afterward turned savage. "Well, ain't I willing?" "Yes, you show yourself willing," said Mrs. Flower, bitterly; "hanging round public-houses, and loafing from morning to night!" "Think I'm going to work for a tanner an hour?" demanded Mr. Flower. "Not me! I'll have my rights, I will!" "While we starve!" "Starve! When you can get washing to do, and live on the fat of the land! If I was a woman, I'd rejoice in such clean work." "And don't I do it? Haven't I sat up night after night, wearing my fingers to the bone for you?" "For me? Oh, oh! I like that!" "Yes, for you," repeated Mrs. Flower, thoroughly roused. "And what's the good of it all? You drink away every penny I earn, you sot; and you call yourself a man!" "I'll call you something, if you don't cut your stick! I wonder what I married you for?" "I'll tell you. You married me to make me work for you; and you're not the only one that speaks soft to a woman till he's got her in his clutches. There ought to be a law for such as you." "Law! Talk of what you understand. There was your sister Martha. Ah, she was a girl! Such eyes--such skin--such lips!" He smacked his own, in his desire to further aggravate her. "I was real nuts on her; and I'd have had her instead of you, if she hadn't took up with a swell. I hope she's found out her mistake by this time." "I dare say she has. We all do, whether we're married or not." She turned to Little Prue, who sat dumb during the scene, which presented no features of novelty to her; from her earliest remembrance she had been a witness of such. "I shan't be gone long," she whispered, kissing the child, "and then you shall have some supper." "Mind you get the money for the washing, and bring it straight home!"--called Mr. Flower after her as she left the room. "Selfish cat!" He slammed the door to. "Never thinks of anyone but herself--never thinks of me! What are you sniveling at?" Prue, now that her mother had gone, began to cry. "Come here; I've got something to say to you. Ain't I your father?" "Yes, father." "And a good father?" "Yes, father." "And a kind father?" "Yes, father." "Very well, then. How old are you?" "I don't know, father." "You don't know, father! You're old enough to get your own living, and here you are passing your days in idleness and plenty. D'you see these!" He pulled some boxes of matches from his pocket. "Yes, father." "What are they?" "Matches, father." "Count 'em. D'you hear me? Count 'em." The child was reeling, and he shook her straight. "Count 'em." "One--two--three--four--five--six." "Six it is. Now, you've got to go out with these six boxes of matches, and bring home tenpence for 'em. How are you going to do it, eh?" "I don't know, father."