'Thank you, mother,' said Mr Prothero, smiling, and looking down
complacently on his little wife.
What went with all his lecture upon the profligacy of Irish beggars? I
suppose it was silently delivered from his breast to the rose, for none
of it came to his lips, though it was quite ready to be heard when the
rose made her appearance.
All the Irish are gone except the girl, Davy, _bach_' said quiet Mrs
Prothero, 'and they are gone to the Overseer to tell him about her, and
I will see that she is sent to the workhouse to-night, that is to say if
I can.'
'I suppose you fed and clothed the ragged rascals?'
'I just gave them some scraps for breakfast, and indeed their blessings
did me good,'
'I should think they must. People that left a dying girl behind 'em.'
'They promised to come back and see after her when the hay-harvest is
over. They are going into Herefordshire to get work, and she, poor
thing, is looking for her relations in this county, and meant to get
work here.'
'Well, I want my breakfast. I promised brother Jonathan to go to church
to-day. He is going to preach a charity sermon for the Church Building
Society, and wants my shilling. He and Mrs Jonathan are to come
to-morrow, you know, my dear.
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