“Oh, sir, you don’t know what bad luck my husband’s had with his stock. The farm’s suffering so as never was for want o’ stock; and we’ve sold all the wheat, and we’re behind with our rent,—not but what we’d like to do what’s right, and I’d sit up and work half the night, if it ’ud be any good; but there’s them poor children,—four of ’em such little uns——” “Don’t cry so, aunt; don’t fret,” whispered Maggie, who had kept hold of Mrs Moss’s hand. “Did Mr Tulliver let you have the money all at once?” said Mrs Tulliver, still lost in the conception of things which had been “going on” without her knowledge. “No; at twice,” said Mrs Moss, rubbing her eyes and making an effort to restrain her tears. “The last was after my bad illness four years ago, as everything went wrong, and there was a new note made then. What with illness and bad luck, I’ve been nothing but cumber all my life.” “Yes, Mrs Moss,” said Mrs Glegg, with decision, “yours is a very unlucky family; the more’s the pity for _my_ sister.” “I set off in the cart as soon as ever I heard o’ what had happened,” said Mrs Moss, looking at Mrs Tulliver. “I should never ha’ stayed away all this while, if you’d thought well to let me know. And it isn’t as I’m thinking all about ourselves, and nothing about my brother, only the money was so on my mind, I couldn’t help speaking about it. And my husband and me desire to do the right thing, sir,” she added, looking at Mr Glegg, “and we’ll make shift and pay the money, come what will, if that’s all my brother’s got to trust to. We’ve been used to trouble, and don’t look for much else. It’s only the thought o’ my poor children pulls me i’ two.” “Why, there’s this to be thought on, Mrs Moss,” said Mr Glegg, “and it’s right to warn you,—if Tulliver’s made a bankrupt, and he’s got a note-of-hand of your husband’s for three hundred pounds, you’ll be obliged to pay it; th’ assignees ’ull come on you for it.” “Oh dear, oh dear!” said Mrs Tulliver, thinking of the bankruptcy, and not of Mrs Moss’s concern in it. Poor Mrs Moss herself listened in trembling submission, while Maggie looked with bewildered distress at Tom to see if _he_ showed any signs of understanding this trouble, and caring about poor aunt Moss. Tom was only looking thoughtful, with his eyes on the tablecloth. “And if he isn’t made bankrupt,” continued Mr Glegg, “as I said before, three hundred pounds ’ud be a little fortin for him, poor man. We don’t know but what he may be partly helpless, if he ever gets up again. I’m very sorry if it goes hard with you, Mrs Moss, but my opinion is, looking at it one way, it’ll be right for you to raise the money; and looking at it th’ other way, you’ll be obliged to pay it. You won’t think ill o’ me for speaking the truth.” “Uncle,” said Tom, looking up suddenly from his meditative view of the tablecloth, “I don’t think it would be right for my aunt Moss to pay the money if it would be against my father’s will for her to pay it; would it?”