They were now reduced to one room, with the boys sleeping on the floor. This was no hardship now that summer was near, only the parents found it interfered a little with their freedom of speech. Nor did it change anything to send them to bed early, for the earlier they went to bed, the longer they were in going to sleep.

One evening after the boys were in bed, the father and mother sat talking. The mother was busy patching young Moxy’s garment. The man’s work for the day was over, but not the woman’s!

“Well, I dunno— he said at last, and stopped.

“What don ye know, John?” asked his wife.

“I was jist thinkin’ that Mr. Christopher was such a friend. You remember as how he used to say a man could no more get out o’ the sight o’ the eyes o’ the Almighty than a child could get out o’ sight o’ the eyes o’ his mother as was watchin’ him?”

“Yes, John, I do remember, and a great comfort it was to me at the time.”

“Well, I dunno!” said Franks again, and paused. But this time he resumed. “What troubles me is that if there was a mother lookin’ after yer child an’ was to see him doin’ no better’n you an’ me, an’ day by day gettin’ further an’ further behind, I should say she wasn’t much of a mother to let us go on in that way.”

“She might have got her reasons for it, John,” returned his wife. “Perhaps she might see a little farther down the road, and might know that the child was in no danger o’ harm. When the children want their dinner very bad, I have heard you say to them sometimes, ‘Now, kids, have patience. Patience is a fine thing. What if ye do be hungry? You ain’t dyin’ o’ hunger. You’ll wear a bit longer yet!’ Ain’t I heard you say that, John?”

“I ain’t goin’ to deny it. But you must allow this is drivin’ it jist a little too far. Here we come to Lon’on thinkin’ to better ourselves—not wantin’ no great things, but jist thinkin’ as how it were time to lay a shillin’ or two to keep us out o’ the workhouse—that’s all we was after. An’ here sin’ we come, first one shillin’ goes, an’ then another, till we ain’t got one, as I may almost say, left! Instead o’ gettin’ more we get less, an’ that with harder work, as is wearin’ me an’ the boys out, an’—”

“I ain’t wore out, father. I’m good for another go,” said little Moxy from the bed.

“I ain’t neither, gov’nor. I got a lot more work in me!”