"Yes, 'tis sad. But bless you, think of what might ha' been. If he was in racks of torments all day long, and me at his side doing nothing else but poulticing and trying to give him a bit of ease! Or if we was both like he is—me and he, too, a-setting by the fire and never able to do anything for each other, whatever should us have done then? Only to think of it. And there—it might ha' been; of course, it might ha' been. What a mercy!" And Jennifer lifted up her hands. "What a mercy!"
You complained of the miserable cottage. But Jennifer was ready to point out its advantages, until the tumble-down place seemed to grow quite considerate and kindly.
"Well, you see it isn't half so bad as it might be. The cracks don't let the wind blow in where we do sit to. And the rain don't drip in where we do sleep to. That would be bad. And it might ha' done; of course, it might ha' done. What a mercy!" And again Jennifer's hands were uplifted.
You began to pity her for the children's sake. But a merry laugh cut that short in a moment.
"Yes, I often think about that," laughed Jennifer, "there might ha' been fourteen of them. And, bless you, whatever should I ha' done if there had a-been fourteen!" And Jennifer lifted up her hands and laughed again, and then slapped them down upon her knees. "Fourteen of them! Why, where should us all have slept to? And think of the eating all round, and the clothes and all. Fourteen! And it might ha' been. What a mercy!"
You talked pathetically about her work in the fields—the dreariness of it and the weariness, bending with hoe from morning to night; or kneeling at the weeds till all the limbs ached. But Jennifer was more than a match for you. "Ah, that's it. That's what I always say. To think that it should be such hard work and all that, and that I should have the strength for it. Now, if I was one of them sort that is always ailin' and failin', instead of being so strong as a horse! And I might ha' been; of course, I might ha' been. What a mercy! Why, there's some as couldn't walk there and back, for 'tis sometimes three miles there and three miles back, and there's some as couldn't do it when they got there, for the weeds be terrible strong sometimes. And there's some as couldn't bear it, east wind and rain and snow. And I might ha' been one of them sort. What a mercy!"
This was Jennifer's philosophy.