"My 'usband says as it's hard to work and bring 'ome all he've earned, and then not to have enough after all. But what can I do? They've eaten a loaf and a half this mornin', and not one of 'em but could ha' eaten double!"
"You have six children, haven't you?" said Meg, sympathizing truly, but feeling powerless to help.
"Eight," answered the woman, "and all under twelve year old. Here's the baby."
She led the way into the back room, where in a good-sized bed a baby still slept soundly.
"You must have your hands full," said Meg kindly; "I wish I could think of anything to help you. Where are they all?"
"Gone to school. They take even my biggest girl away from me, her as might be some 'elp, and I'm sure she don't want schooling as bad as she wants food."
"It comes very hard on you. And so you have to stay at home with the babies?"
"That's just it. I might put 'em out to be 'minded,' but I'm not going to have 'em starved under my eyes, and burnt and neglected and slapped! Not but what I slap 'em myself sometimes," she added with compunction, "when I'm that tired—but not so often considering; and I'm not going to put 'em out for nobody."
She seemed glad to have some one to pour out her griefs to, and Meg hardly liked to hurry away.
"I thought when I see you first as you'd soon get untidy like the rest of the girls, but you ain't yet!" remarked the woman, as they went back to the other room.