That at least was very simple.
She owed several weeks' rent, had debts outstanding to the tune of several shillings—mostly boots for the children; and a little cash in coppers in hand.
Two nights after Ernie's departure, Alf came round for his back-rent. He came stealthily, Ruth noticed; and she knew why. Public opinion in the Moot, which might at any moment find explosive self-expression through the fists of Reuben Deadman, was against him. It was against all landlords. Ern moreover was still a hero in the eyes of the Moot and would remain so for several days yet; and Ruth received the consideration due to the wife of such.
Alf was dogged, with downcast eyes. There was no nonsense, no persiflage about him. He went straight to the point.
"I come for my money," he said.
Ruth rallied him maliciously.
"Money!" she cried, feigning surprise. "I thart it was accommodation you was a'ter."
"And I mean to have it," Alf continued sullenly.
"Even a landlord's got to live these times. I got to have it or you got to go. That's straight."
Ruth had her back to the wall.