“Don’t talk o’ your going, sister,” said Mrs Tulliver; “I should have nobody to stand between me and sister Glegg if you was gone. And there’s nobody but you can get her to make it up with Mr Tulliver, for sister Deane’s never o’ my side, and if she was, it’s not to be looked for as she can speak like them as have got an independent fortin.” “Well, your husband _is_ awk’ard, you know, Bessy,” said Mrs Pullet, good-naturedly ready to use her deep depression on her sister’s account as well as her own. “He’s never behaved quite so pretty to our family as he should do, and the children take after him,—the boy’s very mischievous, and runs away from his aunts and uncles, and the gell’s rude and brown. It’s your bad luck, and I’m sorry for you, Bessy; for you was allays my favourite sister, and we allays liked the same patterns.” “I know Tulliver’s hasty, and says odd things,” said Mrs Tulliver, wiping away one small tear from the corner of her eye; “but I’m sure he’s never been the man, since he married me, to object to my making the friends o’ my side o’ the family welcome to the house.” “_I_ don’t want to make the worst of you, Bessy,” said Mrs Pullet, compassionately, “for I doubt you’ll have trouble enough without that; and your husband’s got that poor sister and her children hanging on him,—and so given to lawing, they say. I doubt he’ll leave you poorly off when he dies. Not as I’d have it said out o’ the family.” This view of her position was naturally far from cheering to Mrs Tulliver. Her imagination was not easily acted on, but she could not help thinking that her case was a hard one, since it appeared that other people thought it hard. “I’m sure, sister, I can’t help myself,” she said, urged by the fear lest her anticipated misfortunes might be held retributive, to take comprehensive review of her past conduct. “There’s no woman strives more for her children; and I’m sure at scouring-time this Lady-day as I’ve had all the bedhangings taken down I did as much as the two gells put together; and there’s the last elder-flower wine I’ve made—beautiful! I allays offer it along with the sherry, though sister Glegg will have it I’m so extravagant; and as for liking to have my clothes tidy, and not go a fright about the house, there’s nobody in the parish can say anything against me in respect o’ backbiting and making mischief, for I don’t wish anybody any harm; and nobody loses by sending me a porkpie, for my pies are fit to show with the best o’ my neighbours’; and the linen’s so in order as if I was to die to-morrow I shouldn’t be ashamed. A woman can do no more nor she can.”