“And what about him, Betty?”
“ ’Tis just this, sir. It can’t be reasoned out of his head by any powers of mine but what that he can do right by your kind lady and gentleman and do his work for me, both together. Now he can’t. To give himself up to being put in the way of arning a good living and getting on, he must give me up. Well; he won’t.”
“I respect him for it,” said Rokesmith.
“ Do ye, sir? I don’t know but what I do myself. Still that don’t make it right to let him have his way. So as he won’t give me up, I’m a-going to give him up.”
“How, Betty?”
“I’m a-going to run away from him.”
With an astonished look at the indomitable old face and the bright eyes, the Secretary repeated, “Run away from him?”
“Yes, sir,” said Betty, with one nod. And in the nod and in the firm set of her mouth, there was a vigour of purpose not to be doubted.
“Come, come!” said the Secretary. “We must talk about this. Let us take our time over it, and try to get at the true sense of the case and the true course, by degrees.”
“Now, lookee here, by dear,” returned old Betty—“asking your excuse for being so familiar, but being of a time of life a’most to be your grandmother twice over. Now, lookee, here. ’Tis a poor living and a hard as is to be got out of this work that I’m a doing now, and but for Sloppy I don’t know as I should have held to it this long. But it did just keep us on, the two together. Now that I’m alone—with even Johnny gone—I’d far sooner be upon my feet and tiring of myself out, than a sitting folding