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Updated: May 4, 2025
There was no bed, but one mattress lay with a few rags of bed-clothing spread upon it, and two others were rolled up in a corner. This chamber accommodated, under ordinary circumstances, four persons: Mr. and Mrs. Candy, Pennyloaf, and a son named Stephen, whose years were eighteen. By the fire sat Mrs. Candy; she leaned forward, her head, which was bound in linen swathes, resting upon her hands.
From poor you shall become poorer; the older you grow the lower shall you sink in want and misery; at the end there is waiting for you, one and all, a death in abandonment and despair. This is Hell Hell Hell!" His voice had risen in pitch, and the last cry was so terrifying that Pennyloaf fled to be out of hearing.
He carried his point, and now he was going to spend his wedding-day at the Crystal Palace choosing that resort because he knew Clem would be there, and Jack Bartley, and Suke Jollop, and many another acquaintance, before whom he was resolved to make display of magnanimity. Pennyloaf shone in most unwonted apparel.
Then the sooner our doctor sees him the better. Up you get, my man! But there are some things that even Law and Society cannot command. Bob lay insensible. Shamming? Well, no; it seemed not. Send for a stretcher, quickly. No great delay. Pennyloaf sat in mute anguish, Bob's head on her lap.
She felt infinitely more than Pennyloaf, for instance, would have done under the circumstances; but her joy consisted, in the main, of a satisfaction of pure instincts and a deep sense of gratitude to those who made her life what it was. She could as little have understood Sidney's mind at this moment as she could have given an analytic account of her own sensations.
'Sic volo, sic jubeo, was Bob's standpoint, and he as good as bade Sidney mind his own affairs. Jane suffered, and more than she herself would have anticipated. She had conceived a liking, almost an affection, for poor, shiftless Pennyloaf, strengthened, of course, by the devotion with which the latter repaid her.
'What's the good o' washin' you, I'd like to know? Just see, Miss Snowdon, he's made his face all white with the milk as the boy spilt on the stairs! Take this brush an' play with it, do! I can't keep 'em clean, Miss Snowdon, so it's no use talkin'. 'Are you going somewhere to-night? Jane inquired, with a glance at the strange costume. Pennyloaf looked up and down in a shamefaced way.
However, her steps drew nearer to the house, and at last she had raised the knocker just raised it and let it fall. Mrs. Byass opened; she did not know Pennyloaf by sight. The latter tried to say something, but only stammered a meaningless sound; thereupon Bessie concluded she was a beggar, and with a shake of the head shut the door upon her. Pennylcaf turned away in confusion and dull misery.
He found Pennyloaf sitting on the stairs with her two children, as usual; poor Pennyloaf had not originality enough to discover new expressions of misery, and that one bright idea of donning her best dress was a single instance of ingenuity. In obedience to Jane Snowdon, she kept herself and the babies and the room tolerably clean, but everything was done in the most dispirited way.
At ten o'clock next morning, just when Jane was preparing for her visit to Merlin Place, so possessed with anxiety to ascertain if Pennyloaf knew anything about Clara Hewett that all her troubles were for the moment in the back ground, Bessie Byass came running upstairs with a strange announcement. Sidney Kirkwood had called, and wished to see Miss Snowdon in private for a few minutes.
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