"Out o' work still?" asked Job.
"I've found a job as 'll last a week; just serve to keep us on where we be. It'll pay up some o' the back rent, an' do little enough beside."
"'Tis hard lines for ye," said Job compassionately. "Don't ye think I was a-wishin' you to do anythin'. No, no I you've enough, as you say, wi' your own."
John Forsyth nodded, and said, "She can't look to live on the neighbours, neither. There's nothin' left but the work'us."
Another sob from Ailie.
"Poor little un," said Job. "And it's two months to when her mother comes out?"
"Two months nigh. And she with nothin' to live on then, neither, comin' out a widow, an' the little she had left gone to pay her rent."
"Poor thing—yes," said Job.
"So you'd best let me take the child off to the work'us this mornin'," pursued John. "I'll go to work this afternoon, an' 'twill be some days, likely, afore I'll be free again to walk so far."
"Don't think I'll be in such a hurry," said Job.