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Moore, George (George Augustus), 1852-1933

"Esther Waters"

Spires was tempted to continue.
"There's that other baby in the far corner, that was brought 'ere since
you was 'ere by a servant-girl like yerself. She's out a'nursing of a
lady's child, getting a pound a week, just as you was; well, now I asks
'ow she can 'ope to bring up that 'ere child--a weakly little thing that
wants the doctor and all sorts of looking after. If that child was to live
it would be the ruin of that girl's life. Don't yer 'ear what I'm saying?"
"Yes, I hear," said Esther, speaking like one in a dream; "don't she care
for her baby, then?"
"She used to care for them, but if they had all lived I should like to
know where she'd be. There 'as been five of them--that's the fifth--so,
instead of them a-costing 'er money, they brings 'er money. She 'as never
failed yet to suit 'erself in a situation as wet-nurse."
"And they all died?"
"Yes, they all died; and this little one don't look as if it was long for
the world, do it?" said Mrs. Spires, who had taken the infant from the
cradle to show Esther. Esther looked at the poor wizened features,
twitched with pain, and the far-off cry of doom, a tiny tinkle from the
verge, shivered in the ear with a strange pathos.
"It goes to my 'eart," said Mrs. Spires, "it do indeed, but, Lord, it is
the best that could 'appen to 'em; who's to care for 'em? and there is
'undreds and 'undreds of them--ay, thousands and thousands every year--and
they all dies like the early shoots.


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