“Bless you, they don’t stick at that,” said the old man with a grin. “I could tell you of things as has happened--some to myself--some to other folks----” “Dear!” cried Mrs. Purcell, “and me to think you were an old stick of an old bachelor, because nobody would have you, Pick! There’s some, as a body reads it in their face--as dry as an east wind, and cutting like an east wind does, that is never happy but when it’s blighting up something. I daresay it’s all a story about Captain Despard--just like the rest.” “None of ’em likes it, when you speak free,” said old Pick, chuckling to himself. “Some pretends, just to please a man; but women does hang together, whoever says different, and they none of them likes to hear the truth. About Captain Despard, it’s a story if you please, but it’s true. The girl she makes no secret, she tells everybody as she’ll soon make a difference in the house. She’ll pack off the son to do for himself, and the daughter----” “What of the daughter, Pick? Oh, the shameless hussy, to talk like that of a poor motherless young girl----” “If she wasn’t motherless, what would Polly have to do with her? It can’t be expected as a second wife should cry her eyes out because the first’s gone.” “Polly!” said Mrs. Purcell, with bated breath; “and she says she’ll pack the son about his business; and the daughter?--What is she going to do about the daughter, when she’s got the poor misfortunate man under her thumb? And who’s Polly, that you know so much about her? She’s a pretty kind of acquaintance, so far as I can see, for a man as considers himself respectable, and comes out of a gentleman’s house.” “That’s the other side,” said Pick, still chuckling to himself. “I said women hangs together. So they do, till you come to speak of one in particular, and then they fly at her. I don’t know nothing against Polly. If the Captain’s in love with her, it ain’t her fault; if she wants to better herself, it’s no more than you or me would do in her place. She’s as respectable as most of the folks I know. To work for your living ain’t a disgrace.” “It’s no disgrace; but a stepmother that is a dressmaking girl will be something new to Miss Despard. Oh, I can’t smile! A dressmaker as---- And young, I suppose, like herself? Oh, trust a man for that; she’s sure to be young. Poor thing, poor thing! I’m that sorry for her, I can’t tell what to do. A lady, Pick; they may be poor, but I’ve always heard there was no better gentlefolks anywhere to be found. And a woman that the likes of you calls Polly. Oh, that’s enough, that’s enough for me! A nice, good, respectable girl, that knows what’s her due--you don’t call _her_ Polly. Polly--there’s a deal in a name.”