So it's the workhus
you'll be in to-morrow. Well, you'll find it a poor place; the skilly
is that rough it do fare to take the skin off your throat, and not a
drop of liquor, not even of a cup of hot tea, and work too, lots of it
--scrubbing, marm, scrubbing!"
This vivid picture of miseries to come drew something between a sob
and a howl from the woman. There is nothing more horrible to the
imagination of such people than the idea of being forced to work. If
their notions of a future state of punishment could be got at, they
would be found in nine cases out of ten to resolve themselves into a
vague conception of hard labour in a hot climate. It was the idea of
the scrubbing that particularly affected the Tiger.
"I won't do it," she said, "I'll go to chokey first----"
"Look here, marm," said George, in a persuasive voice, and pushing the
brandy bottle towards her, "where's the need for you to go to the
workhus or to chokey either--you with a rich husband as is bound by
law to support you as becomes a lady? And, marm, mind another thing, a
husband as hev wickedly deserted you--which how he could do so it
ain't for me to say--and is living along of another young party."
She took some more brandy before she answered.
"That's all very well, you duffer," she said; "but how am I to get at
him? I tell you I'm afraid of him, and even if I weren't, I haven't a
cent to travel with, and if I got there what am I to do?"
"As for being afeard, marm," he answered, "I've told you Laryer Quest
is a long sight more frightened of you than you are of him.
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