“A word of warnin’ is soon given, and may be worth ’undreds. I ain’t got no call to press you, sir. I ain’t dependent on anybody, thank God.”
“Look here,” I said, briskly, “it’s no use beating about the bush. I must see these letters before I know what they’re worth to me. For all I know they’re not worth twopence.”
“Well, I ain’t unreasonable,” said the hag. “Fair and square is my motter. Ef I was to show you dockyments ter prove as your pa’s missis was sweet on my young gentleman there, would that be worth anything to you, sir?”
“That’s rather vague,” I fenced. “People may be fond of one another and no great harm done.”
“Wot may seem no ’arm to some may be great ’arm to a right-thinking person,” said Mrs. Cutts, unctuously. “You can ask all about this neighbour’ood, sir, and they’ll tell you Mrs. Cutts is a lawful married woman, as works ’ard and keeps ’erself to ’erself as the sayin’ is. Not but wot there’s a-many things as a ’ard-workin’ woman in these parts ’as to shet her eyes to, and can’t be blamed for wot is not ’er business. But there is limits, and w’en people is writin’ to people as isn’t their own lawful ’usbands about bein’ in the fambly way and about others as is their lawful ’usbands not ’avin’ the right to exist, and w’en them lawful ’usbands dies sudden not so very long arter, then wot I ses is, it might be worth while for them as is right-thinkin’ and ’ose place it is to interfere, to ’ave them there dockyments kep’ in a safe place.”
I tried not to let her see how deeply I was interested in these hints.
“This is all talk,” I said. “Show me the letters, and then we can get down to brass tacks.”
“Ah!” said Mrs. Cutts. “And supposin’ my young gentleman should come ’ome and look for them letters, as it might be tonight, wot a peck of