woman. I've felt it comin' on me for weeks—gettin' 'arder and 'arder. Now I'm as 'ard as n'ils. So, get out! Mike 'iste!
Benn.—Lizzie! Lizzie!
Mrs. Benn.—'Old your tongue. It was you that brung 'im 'ere. Eight long months ago.
Linton.—You were a kind woman then, Mrs. Benn.
Mrs. Benn.—I was a softy. The sime as Joe, 'ere. But I'm not a softy any longer. Why, look 'ere. I want to tell you somethink I did. Yesterd'y, when I was cleanin' in a cellar I took a bit of charcoal and I figured out on the wall 'ow many meals I'd give you. Eight months—thirty d'ys a month—two 'undred and forty d'ys. Three meals a d'y equals seven 'undred and twenty times 'ave you drawn your chair up to my board. Think of it! Seven 'undred and twenty times
