meals made the underground kitchen a place of the pleasantest associations. A loan from Mrs. Peckover had enabled him to renew his wardrobe. When the last night arrived, Clem and her mother sat conversing to a late hour, their voices again cautiously subdued. A point had been for some days at issue between them, and decision was now imperative.
“It’s you as started the job,” Clem observed with emphasis, “an’ it’s you as’ll have to finish it.”
“And who gets most out of it, I’d like to know?” replied her mother. “Don’t be such a fool! Can’t you see as it’ll come easier from you? A nice thing for his mother-in-law to tell him! If you don’t like to do it the first day, then leave it to the second, or third. But if you take my advice, you’ll get it over the next morning.”
“You’ll have to do it yourself,” Clem repeated stubbornly, propping her chin upon her fists.
“Well, I never thought as you was such a
