“And do you mean that your son and daughter let you go to the workhouse?”
The old man was a little disturbed, and for a moment some slight sign of nervous excitement revealed itself in his lustreless eyes.
“I haven’t see anything of ’em for years.”
“Did you quarrel?”
“No, we didn’t quarrel; but they left off visiting us. They both of them married, and went out a good bit, and were gayer than we were. We used to ask them, and then they’d look in sometimes: but never except when they were asked, and always seemed to wish to get away. We never had nothing to show anybody, nor nothing to give anybody; for we didn’t drink and I never smoked. They went away too, both of them, from Liverpool, somewhere towards London.”
“But when you broke down didn’t you inform them?”
“No. I hadn’t heard anything of them for so long. I thought I might as well get into the House. It will do very well.”
“Didn’t you know anybody belonging to your church or chapel?”
“Well, we went to church; but when the business dropped we left off going, for nothing much seemed to come of it, and nobody ever spoke to us.”
“Wouldn’t you like to get out of this place?”