In fact, a fortnight previously a message from the owner had reached Bettesworth requesting him to do this. The answer given then was repeated now: "You tell your gran'father he may come an' do it hisself. I shan't."
"'Oh,' she says" (I continue in Bettesworth's words), "'Mr. Mardon'" (the tenant of the next cottage) "'said he'd do some.'"
"'He may come and do this if he mind to,' I says. ''Twon't flood me.'" Mardon's cottage was certainly in danger of flooding, should there come prolonged rain.
"Then I said to her, 'How about our well, then? We en't had no water ever since I spoke to you 'bout it before.'
"'Oh,' she says, 'they come an' looked at the well Saturday. But gran'father says 't 'll cost too much. 'T 'll want a lot o' bricks an' things. If he has it done, he says he'll have to put up your rent—yours and Mr. Mardon's—'cause you be the only two as pays anything. En't it a shame?' she says. 'There's that old Mileham—he earns good money every week, and never pays a ha'penny.'"
At this point I foolishly interrupted, and being told how Mileham "won't pay, and poor old Mrs. Connor, she en't got it to pay," I interrupted again, not understanding.
"Hasn't got it to pay? How do you mean?"
"Why, what have she got, sir? All the time her husband was alive, drawin' his pension, the rent was paid up every pension day. But now she en't got nothin' comin' in, and that lout of a boy of hers don't do nothin'. So there's only me and Mardon pays any rent."
I laughed. "It's a fine encouragement to you to be asked to pay more."
"Yes. I says to her, 'Then we two got to pay for four? You tell your gran'father he may put it up, but I shan't pay no more for this old hutch. And I shan't pay what I do, as soon as I can find another place to go to. If he mind to let we get the well done, and we take it out o' the rent,' I says, 'I'll agree to that. Not pay no more rent till we've took it all out.' But she wouldn't say nothin' to that. Or else generally she got plenty o' gab."