Not that I want to give
out that I was badly treated there, but it is the child I'm thinking of.
He was then a little baby and it didn't matter; we was only there a few
months. There's no one that knows of it but me. But he's a growing boy
now, he'll remember the workhouse, and it will be always a disgrace."
"How old is he?"
"He was six last May, miss. It has been a hard job to bring him up. I now
pay six shillings a week for him, that's more than fourteen pounds a year,
and you can't do much in the way of clothes on two pounds a year. And now
that he's growing up he's costing more than ever; but Mrs. Lewis--that's
the woman what has brought him up--is as fond of him as I am myself. She
don't want to make nothing out of his keep, and that's how I've managed up
to the present. But I see well enough that it can't be done; his expense
increases, and the wages remains the same. It was my pride to bring him up
on my earnings, and my hope to see him an honest man earning good money.
But it wasn't to be, miss, it wasn't to be. We must be humble and go back
to the workhouse."
"I can see that it has been a hard fight."
"It has indeed, miss; no one will ever know how hard. I shouldn't mind if
it wasn't going to end by going back to where it started.... They'll take
him from me; I shall never see him while he is there.
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