“And ef I treat her well, even half as well as she deserves, you’ll bless me, won’t you, Mrs Robinson?”
“Ay, lad, that’s true enough. I’ll give you my blessing for what it’s worth. I don’t fear but you’ll be upright, Nat; but yours is a hard creed, and may be it’ll turn you a bit ’ard, by-and-bye.”
“I don’t know what you mean by my having a ’ard creed. A feller wouldn’t be worth his salt what wasn’t sober, honest, and truthful.”
“Right you are, lad.” Poll laughed bitterly. “Well, good-night to you, and think on my words.” Jill accompanied Nat into the passage.
“Mother’s werry tired,” she said, “and she ain’t as well as I’d like to see her. She suffers a good bit of pain now and then, and she feels me giving myself to you. You mustn’t take agen her words, Nat.”
“You may be sure I won’t do that, sweet-heart, seein’ as she’s your mother. But ef she’s not well, Jill, oughtn’t she to go to a ’orspital?”
“No, no, she’ll never do that. Good-night, Nat, good-night.”
“Be sure you keep that bit of money I give you to take care on safe, Jill. It’s for my mate, Joe Williams, and I’ll have to give it up to him on Saturday night. It’s a load off my mind you having it, for I don’t like the lodgings I’m in now a bit. I don’t think the folks are straight, and five pounds is a goodish lump of money.”
“I’ll put it into the stocking with my own savings,” said Jill. “Good-night, Nat.”