It is sometimes harder to ask a favour from our nearest and dearest than from a stranger. “I wonder if you could guess what’s brought me this morning, mother?” she asked.
Mrs Bolt did not commit herself.
“Ned chanced to meet Jim Pike at Wimborne the other day. He had to go and haul coal, you know, fro’ the station. And Jim did tell en he were thinkin’ o’ leavin’ father arter Christmas an’ goin’ out abroad.”
“Ees,” said Mrs Bolt. “Jim be a-goin’ to emmygrate, that’s what he be a-goin’ to do. He’ve a had a letter from his brother what be livin’ out yonder in America, and do want en to j’ine en out there. Jim be fair set on the notion.”
“He did tell Ned as father had rose his wage to fourteen shillin’ a week. ’Tis good wage that, an’ there’s the house too. ’Tis a deal more nor what Ned be earnin’.”
“Oh,” said her mother, sinking her voice and casting a scared glance at her. “You was thinkin’ maybe father ’ud give your ’usband Jim’s place when he’ve a-left?”
“Well,” rejoined Alice, instantly on the defensive, “it do seem hard as father should be willin’ to pay away all that to a stranger when his own flesh an’ blood is pretty nigh starvin’. There! mother, I do assure ’ee there’s times when I wonder where I’m to get the next bit to put in little Abel’s mouth. Many a time I go hungry myself, an’ that’s not so very good for me nor for baby.”
“Dear heart alive!” groaned Mrs Bolt, dropping into the opposite chair and resting a hand on either knee. “God knows I’m broken-hearted to think o’ your bein’ in sich trouble—broken-hearted I be!”
“That little house o’ Jim Pike’s ’ud do us nicely,” went on Alice eagerly. “’Tis a snug little place, an’ it ’ud be nice to be near you, mother.”
“It would,” agreed Mrs Bolt, sucking in her breath, and exhaling it again with a deep sigh. “It would jist about. I’d love to have the childern trottin’ in an’ out, an’ you an’ me could help each other, Alice.”