"You're sitting down, that's what you're a-doing," said the carpenter, regarding her somewhat unfavourably.
"Perhaps it's a take-in," said Mrs. Pullen, her lips trembling. "I've heard o' such things. If it is, I shall never get over it—never."
"Get—over—what?" asked the carpenter.
"It don't look like a take-in," soliloquized Mrs. Pullen, "and I shouldn't think anybody'd go to all that trouble and spend a penny to take in a poor thing like me."
Mr. Tidger, throwing politeness to the winds, leaped forward, and snatching the letter from her, read it with feverish haste, tempered by a defective education.
"It's a take-in, Ann," he said, his voice trembling; "it must be."
"What is?" asked Mrs. Tidger, impatiently.
"Looks like it," said Mrs. Pullen, feebly.
"What is it?" screamed Mrs. Tidger, wrought beyond all endurance.
Her husband turned and regarded her with much severity, but Mrs. Tidger's gaze was the stronger, and after a vain attempt to meet it, he handed her the letter.