They looked as if they had been sacked by bum-bailiffs. The topmost
house was the only place where I saw a fire. A family of eight lived
there. They were Irish people. The wife, a tall, cheerful woman, sat
suckling her child, and giving a helping hand now and then to her
husband's work. He was a little, pale fellow, with only one arm, and
he had an impediment in his speech. He had taken to making cheap
boxes of thin, rough deal, afterwards covered with paper. With the
help of his wife he could make one in a day, and he got ninepence
profit out of it--when the box was sold. He was working at one when
we went in, and he twirled it proudly about with his one arm, and
stammered out a long explanation about the way it had been made; and
then he got upon the lid, and sprang about a little, to let us see
how much it would bear. As the brave little tattered man stood there
upon the box-lid, springing, and sputtering, and waving his one arm,
his wife looked up at him with a smile, as if she thought him "the
greatest wight on ground." There was a little curly-headed child
standing by, quietly taking in all that was going on.
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