“You’re that way now, Jerry, if you only stay as you are.”
“You’ll die, Mariar,” said the man, “if I don’t get out of this bed some way—you an’ the young uns.”
“I’d be glad enough,” said the woman, “if you’d only stay, Jerry.”
“An’ the boys an’ girls?” queried Tappelmine.
“Would be better off alongside of me in the ground, rather than have their dad go backwards again,” said Mrs. Tappelmine. “People turn up their noses at ’em now, Jerry.”
“What are you drivin’ at, Mariar?”
“Why, Jerry, when the children go ’long the road—God knows I don’t let ’em do it oftener than I can help—folks see ’em dirty, an’ wearin’ poor clothes, an’ not lookin’ over an’ above fed up, an’ they can’t help kind o’ twitchin’ up their faces at ’em once there was a time when I couldn’t have helped doin’ it to young ones lookin’ that way.”
“Curse people!” exclaimed Tappelmine.
“They do it to me, too,” continued the woman.