'Thank yo'. There's many on 'em gets no more, and is not so bad
off,--leastways does not show it as he does. But father won't let
'em want, now he knows. Yo' see, Boucher's been pulled down wi'
his childer,--and her being so cranky, and a' they could pawn has
gone this last twelvemonth. Yo're not to think we'd ha' letten
'em clem, for all we're a bit pressed oursel'; if neighbours
doesn't see after neighbours, I dunno who will.' Bessy seemed
almost afraid lest Margaret should think they had not the will,
and, to a certain degree, the power of helping one whom she
evidently regarded as having a claim upon them. 'Besides,' she
went on, 'father is sure and positive the masters must give in
within these next few days,--that they canna hould on much
longer. But I thank yo' all the same,--I thank yo' for mysel', as
much as for Boucher, for it just makes my heart warm to yo' more
and more.' Bessy seemed much quieter to-day, but fearfully languid a
exhausted. As she finished speaking, she looked so faint and
weary that Margaret became alarmed.
'It's nout,' said Bessy. 'It's not death yet. I had a fearfu'
night wi' dreams--or somewhat like dreams, for I were wide
awake--and I'm all in a swounding daze to-day,--only yon poor
chap made me alive again. No! it's not death yet, but death is
not far off. Ay! Cover me up, and I'll may be sleep, if th' cough
will let me. Good night--good afternoon, m'appen I should
say--but th' light is dim an' misty to-day.'