They would never see their mother go to the House! The other
had but one, a son, and not many like him; no son ever thought more of
his mother. He was at sea, but every nine to ten months he was back in
Bristol, and then on to visit her, and never let a month pass without
writing to her and sending money to pay her rent and keep a nice
comfortable home for him.
They congratulated one another; then the mother of four said she always
thanked God for giving her daughters, because they were women and could
feel for a mother. The other replied that it was true, she had often
seen it, the way daughters stuck to their mother - until they
married. She was thankful to have a son; a man, she said, is a man
and can go out in the world and do things, and if he is a good son he
will never see his mother want.
The other was nettled at that speech. "Of course a man's a man," she
returned, "but we all know what men are. They are all right till they
pick up with a girl who wants all their wages; then everyone, mother
and all, must be given up." But a daughter was a daughter always; she
had four, she was happy to say.
This made matters worse. "Daughters always daughters!" came the quick
rejoinder. "I never learned that before. What, my son take up with a
girl and leave his old mother to starve or go to the workhouse! I never
heard such a foolish thing said in my life!" And, being now quite
angry, she looked round for her basket and shawl so as to get away as
quickly as possible from that insulting woman; but the other, guessing
her intention, was too quick for her and started at once to the gate,
but after going four or five steps turned and delivered her last shot:
"Say what you like about your son, and I don't doubt he's been good to
you, and I only hope it'll always be the same; but what I say is, give
me a daughter, and I know, ma'am, that if you had a daughter you'd be
easier in your mind!"
Having spoken, she made for the gate, and the other, stung in some
vital part by the last words, stood motionless, white with anger,
staring after her, first in silence, but presently she began talking
audibly to herself. "My son - my son pick up with a girl! My son leave
his mother to go on the parish!" - but I stayed to hear no more; it made
me laugh and - it was too sad.
XXXV
A HAUNTER OF CHURCHYARDS
I said a little while ago that when staying at a village I am apt to
become a haunter of its churchyard; but I go not to it in the spirit of
our well-beloved Mr. Pecksniff.
