You might tell
them he'd money left him by a brother in California till you'd be
black in the face, they'd stick to it 'twas in the picker he earnt it
from themselves," grumbled Mary Cassidy.
"Them French spinds all their money on their backs, don't they?"
suggested Mrs. Kilpatrick, as if to divert the conversation from
dangerous channels. "Look at them three girls now, off to Spincer with
their fortnight's pay in their pocket!"
"A couple o' onions and a bag o' crackers is all they want and a pinch
o' lard to their butter," pronounced Mary Cassidy with scorn. "The
whole town of 'em 'on't be the worse of a dollar for steak the week
round. They all go back and buy land in Canada, they spend no money
here. See how well they forget their pocketbooks every Sunday for the
collection. They do be very light too, they've more laugh than
ourselves. 'Tis myself's getting old anyway, I don't laugh much now."
"I like to see a pritty girl look fine," said Mrs. Kilpatrick. "No,
they don't be young but once--"
The mill bell rang, and there was a moment's hush of the jarring,
racketing machinery and a sudden noise of many feet trampling across
the dry, hard pine floors. First came an early flight of boys bursting
out of the different doors, and chasing one another down the winding
stairs two steps at a time. The old sweepers, who had not quite
reached the bottom, stood back against the wall for safety's sake
until all these had passed, then they kept on their careful way, the
crowd passing them by as if they were caught in an eddy of the stream.
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