It's something of a judgment in my mind, Mr
Trotman."
"It's the trade leaving the county, widow, and no mistake."
"And how shall we bring it back again?" said the widow; "the
police ought to interfere."
"We must have cheap bread," said Mr Trotman.
"So they tell me," said the widow; "but whether bread be cheap
or dear don't much signify, if we have nothing to buy it with.
You don't want anything in my way, neighbour? It's not very
tempting I fear," said the good widow, in a rather mournful
tone: "but a little fresh fruit cools the mouth in this sultry
time, and at any rate it takes me into the world. It seems
like business, tho' very hard to turn a penny by; but one's
neighbours are very kind, and a little chat about the dreadful
times always puts me in spirits"
"Well, we will take a pound for the sake of trade, widow,"
said Mrs Trotman.
"And here's a glass of gin and water, widow," said Mr Trotman,
"and when Mowbray rallies you shall come and pay for it."
"Thank you both very kindly," said the widow, "a good
neighbour as our minister says, is the pool of Bethesda; and
as you say, Mowbray will rally."
"I never said so," exclaimed Chaffing Jack interrupting her.
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