"Come and look at her, father; come—you must."
She took his hand—she was very strong—stronger than him at that moment, for his legs were not steady, and even now he was scarcely sober.
"I don't want to see an old 'ooman asleep," he muttered, but he let the strong hand lead him forward. Bet pushed back the screen, and drew him close to the bed.
"Wake her if you can," she said, and her eyes blazed into his.
Granger looked. There was no mistaking what he saw.
"My God!" he murmured. "Bet, you shouldn't have done it—you shouldn't have broke it to me like this!"
He trembled all over.
"Martha dead! Let me get away. I hate dead people."
"Put your hand on her forehead, father. See, she couldn't have got your tea for you. It were no fault of her'n—you beat her, and you kicked her, and you made life awful for her; but you couldn't hurt her this morning; she's above you now, you can't touch her now."
"Let me go, Bet—you're an awful girl—you had no call to give me a turn like this. No, I won't touch her, and you can't force me. I'm going out—I won't stay in this room. I'm going down to the docks—I mustn't lose my work. What do you say—that I shan't go? Where will you all be if I don't arn your bread for you?"