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Show 92 RTCIIARD JIUHDIS. wrong ncithcl', l3cn, tl1nt you're nfraitl to tell me. 'Vlwt should the rich 'Squire llurdis want of Bon Pickett tho sq unttcr 1 ' Vhy should lu;>: como palavering you, and me, and that poor cll ild with fine words; nnrl what can we, ])OOr and mean and hated as we arc by everybody, wltat can we do for so great a man as ltim 1 I tell you, Ben ):lickctt, 110 wnnts you to do dirty work, that he's ashamed nnJ nfra id to do himself. That's it, Den; nnd tlJcrc's no denying it. Now, why s!Jon ld you do his dirty work 1 l [c'r; better able to do it himself, i1c's rich <'Hough to do nlmost wlw.t 110 plcascs; :md you, nell, you're too poor to do rvcn what is proper. 'J'hcsc rich men nsk whnt right a poor man has to be good and honest; tl1cy expect him to be a rascal." " 'Veil," said the other sulkily," we ouglit to be so, then, if it's only to oblige them." "No, llen Pickett, we ought ku·dly to oblige them in anything; but, wltcther we would oblige them or 11ot, my notion is, we ougltt to I~ccp dillCrcnt t rncks from lltcm nltogrtltcr. Jf we arc too mean aud poor, to be seen by them withoHt turning up their noses, let us tnkc care not to src them at :tny ti111e>, or if we do sec t ltcm, let ns make usc of our cyC's to take different tracks from th0m. There's 11lways two 11atlts in tltc world, the one':; n big pHth for Lig people; lei them ltnvc it to tltemsclvC's, and let us keep on· it; tltc other's a li ttle path fOr the little, let them stick to it and no jostling. It's the misforlmtc of poor }lOoplc that tltf'y'ro always poking into the wrong path, trying to swell up to ilto size of the big, nn!l making themselves meom Ly doing so. No wonder the rich deSJlisc such people. I despise them myself, though God knows I 'm one of the poorest." " I 'm 110t one to poke in big p:~tlu;;," said Pickett. "No! ]Jut why do big folks come ont of tlteir road into yours, Hen Pickett 1 I'll tell you. Because tltey thiuk they cnn buy you to go into any path, whether big- or little, high or low, dean or dirty. John Hurd is says in ltis henr t, I'm rich; Piekctt's poOl"; my riches can buy his poverty to clean tlte road for me wltere it's tlirty. Isn't tl1<1t it, Ben Pickett?" 'l'IJC k<'en gn1.y eyes of the woman were fixed on I tim with a gl;mce of penetration, as she spoke these words, tltat seemed to search his Yery soul. 'rho eyes of Pickett shank from beneath their stare. A POOR MAN'S WI FE. 93 "Betsy, you're IHdf n witch," ltc exclaimed with an effort at jocularity which was not successful. "I knew it was somcthin..,. like tlwt, llen Pickett. John Hm."dis would nc\·cr ~cck you~ except when he had dirty work on h:md. Now, what's the work, Den Pickett 1" "That's ltis secret, Betsy: ami you know I can't tell you what concerns only another and not us." . . "It concerns yon; it is your secret too; Ben rickctt-lt IS my secret-it is the sccl"ct of that poor child." . . ~rho speaker little knew that the idiot was keenly l1stenmg. She continued :- " Tf it's to do his work , and if it's work done in his name, work that you won't be nshamcd of, and he won't be ashamed of when it's done, Ben Pickett, then it's all right enough. You may keep his secret and welcome; I would not turn on my heel to know it. But if · it's dirty work thnt you'll both be nshnmed of, such ns canying stories to J\f ary Easter by, who is a good girl, and deserves the best; then it's bnt too much of tl1at sort of work you've clone already." "It's nothing like that," said Pickett quickly. "But don't bothC'r me any more about it, Betsy; for if you were to guess a hundred times, and guess right, I shouldn't tell you. So have done and go to bed." . "B<'n Pickett, I warn you, take cnre what you do. Th1s mnn, John H urd is, is too strong for you. He's winning you fast, he'll wrong you soon. You're working fol· him too cheaply ; he'll laugh at you wltcn you come for pay; nncl may be, put to your own nccouut the work yon do on his. Beware, look what you're about, keep your eyes open; for I sec clear as daylight, thnt you're in a bad way. The work must be worse than dirty you're going upon now, when you arc so afraid to speak of it to nle." " I tcl1 you, Betsy, shut up. It's his business, not mine, und I 'm not free to t::~lk of it even to you. Enough that I don't work for nothing. The worst tlmt you shall know of it will be the money it will bring." "'!'he dcvil's money blisters the fingers. And what's money to me, Ben Pickett, or what is money to you 1 What can money do for us 1 Can it mnke men love us and seck us 1 |