They still had credit at the baker's, but they did not take much bread: when one has had scarcely anything else but bread to eat for nearly a month one finds it difficult to eat at all.That same day, when he returned home after his interview with the grocer, they had a loaf of beautiful fresh bread, but none of them could eat it, although they were hungry: it seemed to stick in their throats, and they could not swallow it even with the help of a drink of tea.But they drank the tea, which was the one thing that enabled them to go on living.
The next week Owen earned eight shillings altogether: a few hours he put in assisting Crass to wash off and whiten a ceiling and paint a room, and there was one coffin-plate.He wrote the latter at home, and while he was doing it he heard Frankie - who was out in the scullery with Nora - say to her:
`Mother, how many more days to you think we'll have to have only dry bread and tea?'
Owen's heart seemed to stop as he heard the child's question and listened for Nora's answer, but the question was not to be answered at all just then, for at that moment they heard someone running up the stairs and presently the door was unceremoniously thrown open and Charley Linden rushed into the house, out of breath, hatless, and crying piteously.His clothes were old and ragged; they had been patched at the knees and elbows, but the patches were tearing away from the rotting fabric into which they had been sewn.He had on a pair of black stockings full of holes through which the skin was showing.The soles of his boots were worn through at one side right to the uppers, and as he walked the sides of his bare heels came into contact with the floor, the front part of the sole of one boot was separated from the upper, and his bare toes, red with cold and covered with mud, protruded through the gap.Some sharp substance - a nail or a piece of glass or flint - had evidently lacerated his right foot, for blood was oozing from the broken heel of his boot on to the floor.
They were unable to make much sense of the confused story he told them through his sobs as soon as he was able to speak.All that was clear was that there was something very serious the matter at home: he thought his mother must be either dying or dead, because she did not speak or move or open her eyes, and `please, please, please will you come home with me and see her?'
While Nora was getting ready to go with the boy, Owen made him sit on a chair, and having removed the boot from the foot that was bleeding, washed the cut with some warm water and bandaged it with a piece of clean rag, and then they tried to persuade him to stay there with Frankie while Nora went to see his mother, but the boy would not hear of it.So Frankie went with them instead.Owen could not go because he had to finish the coffin-plate, which was only just commenced.
It will be remembered that we left Mary Linden alone in the house after she returned from seeing the old people away.When the children came home from school, about half an hour afterwards, they found her sitting in one of the chairs with her head resting on her arms on the table, unconscious.They were terrified, because they could not awaken her and began to cry, but presently Charley thought of Frankie's mother and, telling his sister to stay there while he was gone, he started off at a run for Owen's house, leaving the front door wide open after him.
When Nora and the two boys reached the house they found there two other women neighbours, who had heard Elsie crying and had come to see what was wrong.Mary had recovered from her faint and was lying down on the bed.Nora stayed with her for some time after the other women went away.She lit the fire and gave the children their tea - there was still some coal and food left of what had been bought with the three shillings obtained from the Board of Guardians - and afterwards she tidied the house.
Mary said that she did not know exactly what she would have to do in the future.If she could get a room somewhere for two or three shillings a week, her allowance from the Guardians would pay the rent, and she would be able to earn enough for herself and the children to live on.
This was the substance of the story that Nora told Owen when she returned home.He had finished writing the coffin-plate, and as it was now nearly dry he put on his coat and took it down to the carpenter's shop at the yard.
On his way back he met Easton, who had been hanging about in the vain hope of seeing Hunter and finding out if there was any chance of a job.As they walked along together, Easton confided to Owen that he had earned scarcely anything since he had been stood off at Rushton's, and what he had earned had gone, as usual, to pay the rent.Slyme had left them some time ago.Ruth did not seem able to get on with him;she had been in a funny sort of temper altogether, but since he had gone she had had a little work at a boarding-house on the Grand Parade.But things had been going from bad to worse.They had not been able to keep up the payments for the furniture they had hired, so the things had been seized and carted off.They had even stripped the oilcloth from the floor.Easton remarked he was sorry he had not tacked the bloody stuff down in such a manner that they would not have been able to take it up without destroying it.He had been to see Didlum, who said he didn't want to be hard on them, and that he would keep the things together for three months, and if Easton had paid up arrears by that time he could have them back again, but there was, in Easton's opinion, very little chance of that.
Owen listened with contempt and anger.Here was a man who grumbled at the present state of things, yet took no trouble to think for himself and try to alter them, and who at the first chance would vote for the perpetuation of the System which produced his misery.
`Have you heard that old Jack Linden and his wife went to the workhouse today,' he said.
`No,' replied Easton, indifferently.`It's only what I expected.'
