"
"Us caan't get the bettermost o' the devil wance for all," said Mary,
changing the issue, "no--not no more'n us can wash our skin clean wance for
all. But you an' me thinks differ'nt an' allus shall, Mrs. Tregenza."
"Iss, though I s'pose 'tis the same devil as takes backslidin' church or
chapel folks. Let that bide now. Wheer's Joan to? I've got to thank 'e
kindly for lookin' arter Tom t'other Sunday night. Tis things like that
makes religion uncomfortable. But you gived the bwoy some tidy belly-timber
in the small hours o' day, an' he comed home dog-tired, but none the worse.
An' thank 'e for they apples an' cream an' eggs, which I'm sorry they had
sich poor speed. A butivul basket as hurt me to the heart to paart with.
But I wasn't asked. No offense, I hope, 'bout it? Maybe uncle forgot 'twas
the Lard's day?"
"He'm the last ever to do that."
Joan entered at this point in the conversation and betrayed some slight
emotion as her stepmother kissed her. It was nearly five months since they
had met, and Mary now departed, leaving them to discuss Joan's physical
condition.
"I be doin' clever," said Joan, "never felt righter in body."
Mrs. Tregenza poured forth good advice, and after a lengthy conversation
came to a secret ambition and broached it with caution.
"I called to mind some baaby's things--shoes, clouts, frocks an' sich-like
as I've got snug in lavender to home.
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