“And you said you’d give ’em up?”
“Yes. What could I ov done? Susie, don’t you set there a-cryin’. I can git a lumber job, and we’ll look about, and Mr. Lyndsay he’ll give us a bit of money.”
“No, he won’t. Dory Maybrook she’ll tell him Mr. Carington gave you some money, and Dory she’ll tell him, too, it’s no use helpin’ a drunken brute.”
“I said I wouldn’t drink no more, and I won’t. You might believe me, Susie. Ain’t I allus loved you, and slaved for you and them dead children, and not mine neither? I’m not a bad man, if I do take a drop now and again.”
“If you was a worse man, I’d ov liked you better. A great strong man like you, and all these rich folks round here.”
“What!” he exclaimed.
Dorothy started. She would have liked to see those two faces.
“If you was to care for me a little, Susie, I’d do most anything you wanted.”
“Ain’t that Carington comin’ up in September, and didn’t he ask you to go into the woods after caribou with him? There ain’t no better hunter than you in these parts.” As she spoke, her voice became low and softer, so that the listener scarcely heard it. “Them city folks carries a lot of money about with ’em, and watches and things. We’ve got to get away, and we’ve got to live, Joe Colkett,—to live, I say!”
“Do you want me to steal the man’s money?”