For though the middle of October had come, there was no more talk of the workhouse for Ailie. She was domesticated in Job's garret.
"Welcome, both o' them," responded Job. "How're ye gettin' on, lad?"
Hor sat down on the foot of the bed, and leant his chin on his hand, without replying, while Lettie crept to the window, settling herself there in her quiet precise fashion, while her little fair head caught the last gleam of sunlight.
"Eh?" repeated Job.
"I'm not gettin' on at all," said Hor. "Ain't like to, neither."
"Why not?" demanded Job.
"Two places lost lately, as I might ha' had with a decent jacket to my back," said Hor gloomily. "They'd have took me for errand-boy at a shop this mornin' if I could have dressed up respectable. It ain't no use. I've tried an' tried, an' now I'll give up."
"Give up what?"
"Give up tryin'."
"Tryin' what?"