And even now it
brings a lump into my throat to watch her."
"Just so."
"When I told her to undress that night to wash herself, she was a
sight to break one's heart. Her poor little ribs were almost sticking
through the skin; and, Will, I thought of one of ours ever being
treated so."
Dale got up from the table, his face glowing redly, his brows
frowning; and he stretched his arms to their full length.
"By Jupiter!" he said thickly, "if only Mrs. Neath had been a man, I'd
'a' given him--well, at the least, I'd 'a' given him a piece of my
mind. I'd have told him what I thought of him."
"I promise you," said Mavis, "that I told Mrs. Neath what I thought of
_her_."
"An' I'm right glad you did."
This new inmate under their roof was Norah Veale, a twelve-year-old
daughter of the Hadleigh Wood hurdle-maker. Mavis, taking a present of
tea and sugar to one of the Cross Roads cottages, had found her
digging in the garden, and, struck by her pitiful aspect, had
questioned her and elicited her history. It was a common enough one in
those parts. Not being wanted at home, she had been "lent" to Mrs.
Neath, the cottage woman, in exchange for her keep, and was
mercilessly used by the borrower. She rose at dawn, worked as the
regular household drudge till within an hour of school-time, then
walked into Rodchurch for the day's schooling with a piece of dry
bread in her pocket as dinner; and on her return from school worked
again till late at night.
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