" Three of the youngest children were playing about
on the floor. "That's a very fine lad," said I, pointing to one of
them. The little fellow blushed, and smiled, and then became very
still and attentive. "Ah, thin," said his mother, "that villain's
the boy for tuckin' up soup! The Lord be about him, an' save him
alive to me,--the crayter ! . . . An' there's little curly there,--
the rogue! Sure he'll take as much soup as any wan o' them. Maybe he
wouldn't laugh to see a big bowl forninst him this day." "It's very
well they have such good spirits," said the visitor. "So it is,"
replies the woman, "so it is, for God knows it's little else they
have to keep them warm thim bad times."
CHAPTER V.
The next house we called at in Walker's Court was much like the
first in appearance--very little left but the walls, and that
little, such as none but the neediest would pick up, if it was
thrown out to the streets. The only person in the place was a pale,
crippled woman; her sick head, lapped in a poor white clout, swayed
languidly to and fro. Besides being a cripple, she had been ill six
years, and now her husband, also, was taken ill.
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