Oh, but it's good to be strong and well and to have work, but to have none and thereby to get to cease to love it is very bad, oh, very bad indeed. Let the wise know this, as the unwise and ignorant who labour know it in their hearts and in their hands.
"Oho," said Pete as he strode across the yard, "oho!"
He was nobly determined to forgive. He would go in to Jenny and say, "Look here, Jenny, I forgive you because you tell that lie, that kliminwhit. I forgive you, but you be good, kloshe, tell your man no more kliminwhit."
He came to his silent shack and didn't notice that no smoke, no cooking smoke, came from its low chimney. He marched in bent on forgiveness, and found the front room empty.
"She still cly about that silk," said Pete uneasily. He hesitated a moment before he opened the inner door and called to her.
"Jenny, Jenny."
Silence answers you, Pete, silence and two empty rooms with a table upset, and some few rags of dirtied silk still left by the predaceous fingers or claws of the vulturine Annie.
"She velly closs, go out with some other klootchman," said Pete. "Damn, I beat her again."
It was very hard indeed that he, the Man, should come in ready for forgiveness and good advice with regard to future lies, and should find no one meekly ready to accept pardon and to promise rigid truth in future: it was very hard indeed, and Pete's brows contracted and his heart was outraged.
"Now I not forgive," said Pete. "She not here, no muckamuck ready and I so olo, so hungry."