“That’s right. You sleep while you’re easy.”
“Jill, don’t you ’ate your poor wicked old mother?”
“No, mother. I love you better than all the rest of the world put together. Now lie down, and don’t fret yourself. I has a sight of fine things to tell you in the morning; but go to sleep now, do!”
The exhausted woman was only too glad to obey. The moment her head touched the pillow, her tired eyes closed and she went off into dreamless slumber.
Jill stole softly from the room, closing the door behind her.
She had scarcely done so before a shuffling, lumbering sound was heard on the landing; the outer door was banged vigorously from without, and rough boys’ voices called to Jill to open and let them in.
She flung the door open without a minute’s delay.
“Come in,” she said, “and take off your boots, and be quiet ef you can, for mother’s not well, and I won’t have her woke to please anybody. You’re both shameful late, and I’ve half a mind to let you sleep in the passage all night. There’s your supper; and now do try to be quiet.”
The elder boy, called Bob, pulled off his heavy boots and stole across the room. The younger followed his example.
“There’s your supper,” said Jill. She pointed to two plates, on which some lumps of cold suet pudding were placed. “Do be quick,” she said, speaking petulantly for the first time, “for I’m so tired myself I’m fit to drop.”