But he brings mother a shillin' or two." "And who is your mother ?" asked Helmsley, drawing up his chair to the table and sitting down.
"Misses Clodder, up at Blue-bell Cottage, two miles from 'ere across the moor," replied Prue.

"She goes out a-charing, but it's 'ard for 'er to be doin' chars now--she's gettin' old an' fat--orful fat she be gettin'.
Dunno what we'll do if she goes on fattenin'." It was difficult not to laugh at this statement, Prue's eyes were so round, her cheeks were so red, and she breathed so spasmodically as she spoke.

David Helmsley bit his lips to hide a broad smile, and poured out his tea.
"Have you no father ?" "No, never 'ad," declared Prue, quite jubilantly.

"'E droonk 'isself to death an' tumbled over a cliff near 'ere one dark night an' was drowned!" This, with the most thrilling emphasis.
"That's very sad! But you can't say you never had a father," persisted Helmsley.

"You had him before he was drowned ?" "No, I 'adn't," said Prue.