A MANCHESTER TEA-PARTY
"Polly, put the kettle on, And let's have tea! Polly, put the kettle on, And we'll all have tea."
"Here we are, wife; did'st thou think thou'd lost us?" quoth
hearty-voiced Wilson, as the two women rose and shook themselves in
preparation for their homeward walk. Mrs. Barton was evidently
soothed, if not cheered, by the unburdening of her fears and
thoughts to her friend; and her approving look went far to second
her husband's invitation that the whole party should adjourn from
Green Heys Fields to tea, at the Bartons' house. The only faint
opposition was raised by Mrs. Wilson, on account of the lateness of
the hour at which they would probably return, which she feared on
her babies' account.
"Now, hold your tongue, missis, will you," said her husband
good-temperedly. "Don't you know them brats never goes to sleep
till long past ten? and haven't you a shawl, under which you can
tuck one lad's head, as safe as a bird's under its wing? And as for
t'other one, I'll put it in my pocket rather than not stay, now we
are this far away from Ancoats."
"Or, I can lend you another shawl," suggested Mrs. Barton.
"Ay, anything rather than not stay."
The matter being decided the party proceeded home, through many
half-finished streets, all so like one another, that you might have
easily been bewildered and lost your way. Not a step, however, did
our friends lose; down this entry, cutting off that corner, until
they turned out of one of these innumerable streets into a little
paved court, having the backs of houses at the end opposite to the
opening, and a gutter running through the middle to carry off
household slops, washing suds, etc. The women who lived in the
court were busy taking in strings of caps, frocks, and various
articles of linen, which hung from side to side, dangling so low, that if our friends had been a few minutes' sooner, they would have had to stoop very much, or else the half-wet clothes would have flapped in their faces: but although the evening seemed yet early when they were in the open fields--among the pent-up houses, night, with its mists and its darkness, had already begun to fall.
Many greetings were given and exchanged between the Wilsons and
these women, for not long ago they had also dwelt in this court.
Two rude lads, standing at a disorderly looking house-door, exclaimed, as Mary Barton (the daughter) passed, "Eh, look! Polly Barton's getten a sweetheart."
Of course this referred to young Wilson, who stole a look to see how
Mary took the idea. He saw her assume the air of a young fury, and
to his next speech she answered not a word.