letter’s proof; it’s lawyer’s proof. You try to cheat me and see.”
Clem had sufficient command of her faculties to devise this line of action. She half believed, too, that the letter would be of some legal efficacy, as against her mother.
“You bloomin’ fool!” screamed Mrs. Peckover. “Do you think I was born yesterday? Not one farden do you get out of me if you starve in the street—not one farden! It’s my turn now. I’ve had about enough o’ your cheek an’ your hinsults. You’ll go and work for your livin’, you great cart-horse!”
“Work! No fear! I’ll set the perlice after him.”
“The perlice! What can they do?”
“Is it law as he can go off and leave me with nothing to live on?”
“Course it is! Unless you go to the work’us an’ throw yourself on the parish. Do, do! Oh my! shouldn’t I like to see you brought down to the work’us, like Mrs. Igginbottom, the wife of the cat’s-meat man, him as they stuck up wanted for desertion!”
“You’re a liar!” Clem shouted. “I can make you support me before it comes to that.”
