"I can't help it. I don't ask the boys to come."
The mother passed a rough hand over the girl's curly mop. She was proud of Richbell's ''ead of 'air,' bronze hair with warm lights. "Did I hear you sayin' you was goin' to Percy 'Olman's place to tea?"
"Well, I'd nothing to do to keep me home."
"I'd sooner it was Will Brenton."
"Well, mammy, if I don't like him, what's the good for you to talk?"
Mrs. Rosevear sighed, for Will was heir to a good farm while Percy was a sailor, dependent for his prospects on an uncle who had other nephews. "My dear, you can't live with the man alone, you must 'av something to live on."
"I don't care. If I don't have grand things I must have others."
"As you make your bed, my dear, so you must lie. I 'ad to fight my way in the world and so must you, that's all; but—Will Brenton's a steady decent chap."
"Well, so he is, but I don't want to get married yet. Half the young girls that's married now, don't see no young life but I mean to."
Mrs. Tom was not to be turned from the point she was making. "An' Percy's always after the maidens."