“What have I done?” repeated Sally, with a stamp of the foot, and raising her voice so as to drown the outcry. “When my husband found hisself onfit to do his work this marnin’ I went out an’ did it for en, so as maister shouldn’t turn en away.”
“Ho, yes,” said Mrs Dewey, folding her arms, “that was what ye done; we all knows that well enough. Ye was a-boastin’ an a-braggin’ of it loud enough, I’m sure, settin’ yourself up an tryin’ to make every man o’ the place discontented and upset.”
“Me!” exclaimed Mrs Crumpler indignantly. “I’m sure I never opened my mouth to get a-boastin’ or anything o’ the kind.”
“Oh, didn’t ye!” retorted Jenny. “I heared my father say as you went an offered maister to do two days’ work to make up for one your husband had a-lost through bein’ drinky.”
“Well,” rejoined Sally, whose blood was now up, “that wasn’t boastin’.”
“’Twas a-settin’ yourself up above the rest of us and a-puttin’ notions into the men’s heads what be bad enough as ’tis,” cried Mrs Dewey.
“Why, they’ll all be expectin’ of us to do the same,” exclaimed Mrs Frost, “to be sure they will. The very next time Frost gets drunk he’ll up and ax me, as like as not, why I don’t do his work for en, same as Sally Crumpler.”
At this point, Mr Crumpler, whose shoulders might have been observed to heave during the last few moments, suddenly pushed back his chair and burst into a roar of laughter.
“Well done!” he cried. “Well done, Sally! I d’ ’low there b’ain’t a man in the place but what envies me.”
Thereupon the deputation turned upon him as one woman.