Eh! said Martha. I can t abide to see good victuals go to waste. If
our children was at this table they d clean it bare in five minutes.
Why? said Mary coldly.
Why! echoed Martha. Because they scarce ever had their stomachs full
in their lives. They re as hungry as young hawks an foxes.
I don t know what it is to be hungry, said Mary, with the
indifference of ignorance.
Martha looked indignant.
Well, it would do thee good to try it. I can see that plain enough,
she said outspokenly. I ve no patience with folk as sits an just
stares at good bread an meat. My word! don t I wish Dickon and Phil
an Jane an th rest of em had what s here under their pinafores.
Why don t you take it to them? suggested Mary.
It s not mine, answered Martha stoutly. An this isn t my day out. I
get my day out once a month same as th rest. Then I go home an clean
up for mother an give her a day s rest.
Mary drank some tea and ate a little toast and some marmalade.
You wrap up warm an run out an play you, said Martha. It ll do you
good and give you some stomach for your meat.
Mary went to the window. There were gardens and paths and big trees,
but everything looked dull and wintry.
Out? Why should I go out on a day like this?
Well, if tha doesn t go out tha lt have to stay in, an what has tha
got to do?
Mary glanced about her. There was nothing to do. When Mrs. Medlock had
prepared the nursery she had not thought of amusement. Perhaps it would
be better to go and see what the gardens were like.
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