I did feel it a good deal before I had done with it. Nellie also carried a pail, and Frances a large bundle, done up in some old sacking.
“What’s all that?” I inquired, as we made our way out of the prison.
“Dirty clothes,” said Frances, sharply. “They must have some clean linen, I suppose, though they are Frenchmen!”
It seemed to me that they managed to exist without it, but as the point was not material, and Frances appeared touchy, I held my tongue.
“This young boy has giv’ a hand with the sweepings, Roche,” said Frances, as we passed that functionary.
“Ay? Well, you and Nell be pretty well weighted too, surely,” drawled Roche.
“Oh, gimcracks, and clothes for the wash-’us (house),” answered the girl lightly, and in another moment we were in freedom—in the open air.
“Oh, poor chaps; how good it is!” said Nellie, drawing a long breath.
We went round to a piece of untidy waste land behind the prison.
“I’ll be bound your arms aches,” said Frances. “Drop the buckats, Dan’l, and thank ye.”