"It is not at all likely that he should come again. It is all over, and there is no good in talking of it. I shall return to New York on Saturday week."
"Oh, Mrs. Hurtle!"
"I can't remain here, you know, all my life doing nothing. I came over here for a certain purpose, and that has—gone by. Now I may just go back again."
"I know he has ill-treated you. I know he has."
"I am not disposed to talk about it, Mrs. Pipkin."
"I should have thought it would have done you good to speak your mind out free. I know it would me if I'd been served in that way."
"If I had anything to say at all after that fashion it would be to the gentleman, and not to any other else. As it is I shall never speak of it again to any one. You have been very kind to me, Mrs. Pipkin, and I shall be sorry to leave you."
"Oh, Mrs. Hurtle, you can't understand what it is to me. It isn't only my feelings. The likes of me can't stand by their feelings only, as their betters do. I've never been above telling you what a godsend you've been to me this summer;—have I? I've paid everything, butcher, baker, rates and all, just like clockwork. And now you're going away!" Then Mrs. Pipkin began to sob.
"I suppose I shall see Mr. Crumb before I go," said Mrs. Hurtle.
"She don't deserve it; do she? And even now she never says a word about him that I call respectful. She looks on him as just being better than Mrs. Buggins's children. That's all."