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"
It
's
all
right
,
Mum
.
Drying
a
few
dishes
wo
n't
kill
me
.
Little
enough
to
make
life
easier
for
you
.
"
"
It
's
my
job
,
Frank
.
I
do
n't
mind
.
"
"
I
just
wish
we
'd
get
rich
one
of
these
days
,
so
you
could
have
a
maid
.
"
"
That
is
wishful
thinking
!
"
She
wiped
her
soapy
red
hands
on
the
dishcloth
and
then
pressed
them
into
her
sides
,
sighing
.
Her
eyes
as
they
rested
on
her
son
were
vaguely
worried
,
sensing
his
bitter
discontent
,
more
than
the
normal
railing
of
a
workingman
against
his
lot
.
"
Frank
,
do
n't
get
grand
ideas
.
They
only
lead
to
trouble
.
We
're
working-class
people
,
which
means
we
do
n't
get
rich
or
have
maids
.
Be
content
with
what
you
are
and
what
you
have
.
When
you
say
things
like
this
you
're
insulting
Daddy
,
and
he
does
n't
deserve
it
.
You
know
that
.
He
does
n't
drink
,
he
does
n't
gamble
,
and
he
works
awfully
hard
for
us
.
Not
a
penny
he
earns
goes
into
his
own
pocket
.
It
all
comes
to
us
.
"
The
muscular
shoulders
hunched
impatiently
,
the
dark
face
became
harsh
and
grim
.
"
But
why
should
wanting
more
out
of
life
than
drudgery
be
so
bad
?
I
do
n't
see
what
's
wrong
with
wishing
you
had
a
maid
.
"
"
It
's
wrong
because
it
ca
n't
be
!
You
know
there
's
no
money
to
keep
you
at
school
,
and
if
you
ca
n't
stay
at
school
how
are
you
ever
going
to
be
anything
better
than
a
manual
worker
?
Your
accent
,
your
clothes
and
your
hands
show
that
you
labor
for
a
living
.
But
it
's
no
disgrace
to
have
calluses
on
your
hands
.
As
Daddy
says
,
when
a
man
's
hands
are
callused
you
know
he
's
honest
.
"
Frank
shrugged
and
said
no
more
.
The
dishes
were
all
put
away
;
Fee
got
out
her
sewing
basket
and
sat
down
in
Paddy
's
chair
by
the
fire
,
while
Frank
went
back
to
the
doll
.
"
Poor
little
Meggie
!
"
he
said
suddenly
.
"
Why
?
"
