"Do you know," she added, trembling from head to foot with that passion, "do you know that I could turn you out on the streets, you and your beggarly father—do you know that?"
Rachel did know it, and groaned inwardly. Mrs. Brown saw her agony, and triumphed in the consciousness of her own power. But the very violence of her anger had by this time exhausted it; she felt much calmer, and took a more rational view of things.
"I am a fool to mind what a simpleton like you does," observed Mrs. Brown, with that disregard of politeness which was one of her attributes; "for, being a simpleton, how can you but do the acts of a simpleton? As to bringing your father here, you must have been mad to think of it; for, if you can't support yourself, how can you support him? However, it's lucky I'm come in time to set all to rights. What's his parish? Marylebone, ain't it? I shall see the overseer this very day, and manage that for you; and it's just as well," added Mrs. Brown, divesting herself of bonnet and shawl, and proceeding to make herself at home, "that you didn't meddle, in it—a pretty mess you'd have made of it, I'll be bound. Well! and what do you stand dreaming there for? Make me a cup of tea—will you? I am just ready to drop with it all."
As a proof of her assertion, she sank on the chair next her, took out her pocket-handkerchief, and began fanning herself. But, instead of complying with Mrs. Brown's orders, Rachel Gray stood before that lady motionless and pale. She looked her in the face steadily, and in a firm, clear voice, she deliberately said:
"Mrs. Brown, my father shall never, whilst I live, go to a workhouse."
"What!" screamed Mrs. Brown.
"I say," repeated Rachel, "that my father shall never, whilst God gives his daughter life, go to a workhouse."
Mrs. Brown was confounded—then she laughed derisively.
"Nonsense, Rachel," she said, "nonsense. Why, I can turn you out, this very instant."
But the threat fell harmless, Rachel was strong in that hour; her cheek had colour, her eye had light, her heart had courage. She looked at the helpless old man, who had drawn this storm on her head, then at Mrs. Brown, and calmly laying her hand on the shoulder of Thomas Gray, she again looked in Mrs. Brown's face, and silently smiled. Her choice was made—her resolve was taken.