“And bad words are refusing you work when you ask for it.”
“Ay. Bad words is saying ‘Aha, my fine chap! Yo’ve been true to yo’r order, and I’ll be true to mine. Yo’ did the best yo’ could for them as wanted help; that’s yo’re way of being true to yo’re kind: and I’ll be true to mine. Yo’ve been a poor fool, as knowed no better nor be a true faithful fool. So go and be d—d to yo’. There’s no work for yo’ here.’ Them’s bad words. I’m not a fool; and if I was, folk ought to ha’ taught me how to be wise after their fashion. I could m’appen ha’ learnt, if any one had tried to teach me.”
“Would it not be worth while,” said Mr. Hale, “to ask your old master if he would take you back again? It might be a poor chance, but it would be a chance.”
He looked up again, with a sharp glance at the questioner; and then tittered a low and bitter laugh.
“Measter! if it’s no offence, I’ll ask yo’ a question or two in my turn.”
“You’re quite welcome,” said Mr. Hale.
“I reckon yo’n some way of earning your bread. Folk seldom lives i’ Milton just for pleasure, if they can live anywhere else.”
“You are quite right. I have some independent property, but my intention in settling in Milton was to become a private tutor.”
“To teach folk. Well! I reckon they pay yo’ for teaching them, dunnot they?”
“Yes,” replied Mr. Hale, smiling. “I teach in order to get paid.”