'Oh, it's just like yer!' Bessie flung at him at last in desperation.
'You're allus the same--a mean-spirited feller, stannin in your
children's way! 'Ow do _you_ know who old John's goin to leave his money
to? 'Ow do _you_ know as he wouldn't leave it to _them_ poor
innercents'--she waved her hand tragically towards the children playing
in the road--'if we was just a bit nice and friendly with him now 'ee's
gettin old? But you don't care, not you!--one 'ud think yer were made o'
money--an that little un there not got the right use of his legs!'

She pointed, half-crying, to the second boy, who had already shown signs
of hip disease.

Isaac still smoked, but he was troubled in his mind. A vague
presentiment held him, but the pressure brought to bear upon him was
strong.

'I tell yer the lock isn't a good un!' he said, suddenly removing his
pipe.

Bessie stopped instantly in the middle of another tirade. She was
leaning against the door, arms akimbo, eyes alternately wet and flaming.

'Then, if it isn't,' she said, with a triumphant change of tone,' I'll
soon get Flack to see to it--it's nobbut a step. I'll run up after
supper.'

Flack was the village carpenter.

'An there's mother's old box as takes up the cupboard,' continued Isaac,