“I’m sure I hope so too,” observed Mrs. Pomfret; “but I can’t say; for my part, I’ve no great notion of those low people. They say all those children are taken from the very lowest drugs and refuges of the town, and surely they are like enough, ma’am, to take after their own fathers and mothers.”
“But they are not suffered to be with their parents,” rejoined the lady; “and therefore cannot be hurt by their example. This little boy, to be sure, was unfortunate in his father, but he has had an excellent education.”
“Oh, edication! to be sure, ma’am, I know. I don’t say but what edication is a great thing. But then, ma’am, edication can’t change the natur that’s in one, they say; and one’s that born naturally bad and low, they say, all the edication in the world won’t do no good; and, for my part, ma’am, I know you knows best; but I should be afraid to let any of those Villaintropic folks get into my house; for nobody can tell the natur of them aforehand. I declare it frights me.”
“Pomfret, I thought you had better sense: how would this poor boy earn his bread? he would be forced to starve or steal, if everybody had such prejudices.”
Pomfret, who really was a good woman, was softened at this idea, and said, “God forbid he should starve or steal, and God forbid I should say anything prejudiciary of the boy; for there may be no harm in him.”
“Well,” said Mrs. Churchill, changing her tone, “but, Pomfret, if we don’t like the boy at the end of the month, we have done with him; for I have only promised Mr. Spencer to keep him a month upon trial: there is no harm done.”
“Dear, no, ma’am, to be sure; and cook must put up with her disappointment, that’s all.”
“What disappointment?”
“About her nephew, ma’am; the boy she and I was speaking to you for.”
“When?”