“Yes, ma’am, when I think of it.”
“Then you can’t wonder they won’t give you work!”
“I don’t, ma’am—not now. It seems a law of the universe!”
“Not of the universe, I think—but of this world—perhaps!” said the old lady thoughtfully.
“But there’s one thing I do wonder at,” said Clare. “When I say I’ve been in prison, they believe me; but when I say I haven’t done anything wrong, then they mock me, and seem quite amused at being expected to believe that. I can’t get at it!”
“I daresay! But people will always believe you against yourself.—What are you going to do, then, if nobody will give you work? You can’t starve!”
“Indeed I can, ma’am! It’s just the one thing I’ve got to do. We’ve been pretty near the last of it sometimes—me and Abdiel! Haven’t we, Abby?”
The dog wagged his tail, and the old lady turned aside to control her feelings.
“Don’t cry, ma’am,” said Clare; “I don’t mind it—not much. I’m too glad I didn’t do anything, to mind it much! Why should I! Ought I to mind it much, ma’am? Jesus Christ hadn’t done anything, and they killed him! I don’t fancy it’s so very bad to die of only hunger! But we’ll soon see!—Sha’n’t we, Abby?”
Again the dog wagged his tail.