'Not I—it is on the other side of the water.'
'It was on the edge of the cliff, and the rock has been breaking away for some time—that is how she had it cheap. Now it is part down, and they say there be a great crack right along the ground—and the whole cliff will go over, and be munched by the waves.'
'That's no concern of ours, Moses; she does not belong to the parish.'
'True, but she has worked for us when we were short and in difficulties.'
'And was paid for it—and we wiped our hands of her.'
'Mary, you are over hard.'
'And you like butter on dog-days. I know you men. Dear Jane, indeed!'
Mrs. Marley, with labouring bosom, heaving after the storm, drew her daughter with her into the village street, to the village inn, the Red Lion, kept by Mrs. Warne.
She walked in, with a manner almost defiant, and encountered the landlady issuing from the cosy parlour behind the bar, in which a good fire burnt, and where sat a couple of commercial travellers.
'I have come,' said Jane Marley, 'and have brought my Winefred. Our house is going to pieces under our feet, over our heads, and we are homeless. I desire that you take my child and me. I do not ask it as a favour. Look at my arms. I can work, and will be an ostler for you, and she shall serve in the inn.'