“And you go and make jellies and give away.”
“How did you know that?” said Mrs Jenkles, sharply.
“Ah! you women can’t go on long in your wicked ways without being found out,” said Sam. “I heerd on it.”
“The poor child was dying, same as our poor little Dick was, Sam, and—and—”
Sam turned his head farther away.
“And now you invite poor people to come, as ’ll never be able to pay their bit o’ rent; an’ the end on it all ’ll be the workus.”
“Oh, Sam; pray, pray, don’t! Do I deserve all this?” and the poor woman burst out sobbing.
“God bless you! no, old lady,” cried Sam, pulling her on to his knee, and giving her a sounding kiss, as she laid her head upon his shoulder. “It ’ll all come right in the long run; see if it don’t. Life aint worth having if you can’t do, a bit o’ good in it.”
“Then you really aint cross with me, Sam?”
“Not a bit,” said Sam. “Look at me. Sally, my old gal, it’s my belief as them angels as takes the toll at the gate up above in the shiny way ’ll let you go through free.”