The poor fellow blushed with
evident pain, and faltered out his story in few and simple words, as
if ashamed that anything on earth should have driven him at last to
such an extremity as this. In another case, a clean old decrepid man
presented himself. "What's brought you here, Joseph?" said the
chairman. "Why; aw've nought to do,--nor nought to tak to." "What's
your daughter, Ellen, doing, Joseph?" "Hoo's eawt o' wark." "And
what's your wife doing?" "Hoo's bin bed-fast aboon five year." The
old man was relieved at once; but, as he walked away, he looked hard
at his ticket, as if it wasn't exactly the kind of thing; and,
turning round, he said, "Couldn't yo let me be a sweeper i'th
streets, istid, Mr Eccles?" A clean old woman came up, with a snow-
white nightcap on her head. "Well, Mary; what do you want?" "Aw
could like yo to gi mo a bit o' summat, Mr Eccles,--for aw need it"
"Well, but you've some lodgers, haven't you, Mary?" "Yigh; aw've
three." "Well; what do they pay you?" "They pay'n mo nought. They'n
no wark,--an' one connot turn 'em eawt."
This was all quite true. "Well, but you live with your son; don't
you?" continued the chairman.
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