“But,” continued her husband, “the gaffer went on to say that, along of Master Chester, who’d taken such a lot of trouble, he’d give me another chance. So that’s all about it.”
“And in all my born days,” broke out Mrs Tuvvy, “I never heard of anything so singuller. Whatever made Master Chester take such a fancy to you, I wonder?”
“So I’m to stop on,” continued Tuvvy, putting his pipe in his mouth, and turning his back on his wife.
“And I hope,” said poor Mrs Tuvvy, beginning to cry a little from the relief of the good news, “I do hope, Benjamin, as it’ll be a lesson as you’ll take to ’art, and keep away from the drink; and if ever a man had reason to keep steady, you ’ave, with Dan growin’ up, and Becky’s doctor’s bill to pay, and—” Mrs Tuvvy did not speak angrily, or raise her voice above a soft complaining drawl; but it seemed to have a disturbing effect upon her husband, who, when she reached this point, sprang up and flung himself towards the door.
“Look, father,” said Becky’s childish voice from her corner. “See here what Dan’s brought me!”
“Filling the house with cats and dogs and rubbish,” mourned Mrs Tuvvy, joining the remark to her interrupted sentence.
“We ain’t got no dogs, anyhow, mother,” said Dan, as his father turned from the door and went up to Becky’s side; “a morsel of a kitten won’t eat much. She’ll have a bit of my supper till she’s older, and then she’ll catch mice and get her own living.”