Of course I was very awkward. I tried my very hardest
to do everything that was set me, but only got scolding for my
pains; and it soon came to boxes on the ear, and even kicks. The
place was kept by a man and wife; they had a daughter older than I,
and they treated her just like a hired servant. I used to sleep with
the girl in a wretched kitchen underground, and the poor thing kept
me awake every night with crying and complaining of her hard life.
It was no harder than mine, and I can't think she felt it more; but
I had even then a kind of stubborn pride which kept me from showing
what I suffered. I couldn't have borne to let them see what a
terrible change it was for me, all this drudgery and unkindness; I
felt it would have been like taking them into my confidence, opening
my heart to them, and I despised them too much for that. I even
tried to talk in a rough rude way, as if I had never been used to
anything better--"
"That was fine, that was heroic!" broke in Waymark admiringly.
"I only know it was miserable enough. And things got worse instead
of better. The master was a coarse drunken brute, and he and his
wife used to quarrel fearfully. I have seen them throw knives at
each other, and do worse things than that, too.
Pages:
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253