“They don’t take children in almshouses, so I’m told. They don’t want ’em; it wouldn’t do. Folks as is ready for almshouses is ready for rest, and there wouldn’t be that much rest, wi’ children always about. I don’t know as it would be good for the children, neither, come to that. Almshouses is places where folks is sort of put away. I don’t know as they’d be much of a home for them as is starting out.” That “put away” was a bad strategical error from Emma’s point of view, and she realised it as soon as she had made it. It brought back a picture of old Mrs. Bendrigg to Mrs. Clapham—that bedridden, night-capped, wizened Old Man of the Sea.... She turned her head slowly to glare at Emma and the Laughter behind her that was God, and Emma’s hands twitched as she hurried on. “Not that I’m meaning anything against them almshouses, I’m sure! I’ve always heard tell they was fit for a king. What, yon time I was telling you of as his lordship come to see me about poor Stephen, he said as he’d like to live in one o’ them himself. It all depends wi’ almshouses and suchlike who it is as builds ’em; but old Mr. T. wasn’t the sort to go pinching the poor.” The word “poor,” however, was a mistake, too, and Emma dashed on again to mend it. “An honour, that’s what it’s always been, to have one o’ them spots. That’s why I was a bit down-like on Martha Jane—the likes of her to go setting up! It’s folks like you them houses is meant for, folks as has lived a respectable life. Ay, well, you’ve got one on ’em now, and the best of the lot. Right set you’ve been on it all these years, and you’ve got it at last.” Mrs. Clapham spoke at the end of all this as if she had not heard a single sentence. “Them children’ll come to me,” she said in a voice that was determined, if toneless and sullen. Emma drew a long breath. “Surely to goodness you don’t mean as you’ll let it slide! You can’t go taking children to almshouses, as I said before.” “I know that right well.” “You’ll send Committee back word, after all?” “Ay.” “Let the house slip? Let yon Martha Jane——!” “Ay!” It was almost with a cry that Mrs. Clapham cut through that last sentence. “Well, I don’t know what they’ll say about it, I’m sure!” Emma’s tone was still quiet, but she allowed herself a little righteous indignation. “You’ve put ’em to a deal o’ trouble and all that, and now it’ll all be to settle again. I’m not sure as you’ve any right to send ’em back word, come to that. I’m not sure as they can’t sue you. Anyway, it’ll be queer if they ever give you another chance.” “Time enough to think o’ that!” The charwoman clung doggedly to her determination, even though the prospect of renewed waiting drew from her a heavy sigh. The sigh had a distinctly cheering effect upon Emma. “It’ll mean you turning out to work again, won’t it?” she inquired kindly. “The children’ll have their bit o’ pension-money, likely; but I doubt you’ll have to work for ’em, all the same.” “Likely I shall.”