"That's right, my dear, you're coming round nicely; have another sip of gin and then a good cup of tea will put you right; faint you were, my dear, I know, and I suppose you had no luck at them Board Schools?"
Mrs. Woods raised a weary hand to her dazed head and thought dully before she answered—
"They asked me if I was a widow, and when I said my husband had deserted me over a month ago they said as they were sorry they could not give me any work, they were keeping it for the widows of the Borough."
"Yes, I 'eard that from Mrs. James, but why didn't you have the sense to say as you were a widow?"
"I never thought on that. I am a truthful woman, I am."
"Can't afford to be truthful if you are a deserted woman; men on boards and committees don't like the breed, thinks you did something to drive the old man away, but widows moves the 'ardest 'earts. What you wants is a crape fall and Mrs. Lee's black-bordered 'ankerchief."
"You'll have to get work, my dear. All the pack will be loose on you soon—school-board visitors and sanitaries, and cruelty-men to say as your children have not enough food——"
"There, there, don't upset her again; we'll fix you up all right, my dear, only you must remember, Mrs. Woods, that you are young and ignorant and must be guided by them as knows the world," said Mrs. Lee, a shrewd-eyed old dame of great wisdom and experience, who, like some of the curés in Brittany, was consulted by all her friends and neighbours in all problems spiritual and temporal.
"First of all, my dear, you must get out of this, you're getting too well known in this locality. Go into London Street right across the 'igh road. I 'ave a daughter as can give you a room, and there you become a widow, Mrs. Spence—just buried 'im in Sheffield. You're from Yorkshire, I reckon?"
Mrs. Woods nodded.