“Run upstairs to granny, dears,” said the woman to the children. “Ask granny to give you a bit of supper and put you to bed.”
“Granny says there ain’t nothing for supper except dry bread,” piped the elder child, “and I don’t want dry bread; do you, Bobby?”
“No,” said Bobby, beginning to whimper. “I want cake.”
“Here,” said Crossley, putting his hand into his pocket and pulling out half-a-crown, “take this to your granny and tell her to buy you some cake.”
The elder child, young as she was, knew the value of money. She clutched the coin eagerly, and ran out of the room, followed by her small brother.
“Them children, and myself, for that matter, are half starved,” said Mrs. Larkins. “I’ve worked ’ard, as you can see, sir, but I can’t make the two ends meet, no matter how I try. It do seem bitter ’ard, Mr. Crossley, that you should not let me have the twenty pounds my husband hid away for me. He knew well when he hid the money in that mug behind the dresser that an evil day would come. He knew I would be safe to find the money the first time I turned the room out. I say again, sir, it do seem ’ard you should have taken it, for it were meant for me.”
“Shut up, woman,” said Crossley, “and let me speak. I did what I did for a good purpose, and could do no otherwise. Your husband’s trial comes on at the next assizes; he is certain to get his five years at the least.”
“Do you think so, indeed, sir? Oh, my poor Bill. And whatever will become of me?” The woman raised her apron to her eyes and began to sob.
“It is impossible for me to say. Now, listen and stop crying if you can. The fact is this; I know your case is a hard one. I have thought a good bit about you and that twenty pounds which your husband saved away for you in case he should be nabbed, as nabbed he was certain to be in the end.”