Emma drew a long breath.
“Surely to goodness you don’t mean as you’ll let it slide! You can’t go taking children to almshouses, as I said before.”
“I know that right well.”
“You’ll send Committee back word, after all?”
“Ay.”
“Let the house slip? Let yon Martha Jane——!”
“Ay!” It was almost with a cry that Mrs. Clapham cut through that last sentence.
“Well, I don’t know what they’ll say about it, I’m sure!” Emma’s tone was still quiet, but she allowed herself a little righteous indignation. “You’ve put ’em to a deal o’ trouble and all that, and now it’ll all be to settle again. I’m not sure as you’ve any right to send ’em back word, come to that. I’m not sure as they can’t sue you. Anyway, it’ll be queer if they ever give you another chance.”
“Time enough to think o’ that!” The charwoman clung doggedly to her determination, even though the prospect of renewed waiting drew from her a heavy sigh. The sigh had a distinctly cheering effect upon Emma.
“It’ll mean you turning out to work again, won’t it?” she inquired kindly. “The children’ll have their bit o’ pension-money, likely; but I doubt you’ll have to work for ’em, all the same.”