Book 3 - Chapter 8 - Page 2

come which she had always foreseen would come of his insolence in
time past "to them as were the best friends he'd got to look to." Mr
Glegg and Mr. Deane were less stern in their views, but they both of
them thought Tulliver had done enough harm by his hot-tempered
crotchets and ought to put them out of the question when a livelihood
was offered him; Wakem showed a right feeling about the matter,--_he_
had no grudge against Tulliver.

Tom had protested against entertaining the proposition. He shouldn't
like his father to be under Wakem; he thought it would look
mean-spirited; but his mother's main distress was the utter
impossibility of ever "turning Mr. Tulliver round about Wakem," or
getting him to hear reason; no, they would all have to go and live in
a pigsty on purpose to spite Wakem, who spoke "so as nobody could be
fairer." Indeed, Mrs. Tulliver's mind was reduced to such confusion by
living in this strange medium of unaccountable sorrow, against which
she continually appealed by asking, "Oh dear, what _have_ I done to
deserve worse than other women?" that Maggie began to suspect her poor
mother's wits were quite going.

"Tom," she said, when they were out of their father's room together,
"we _must_ try to make father understand a little of what has happened
before he goes downstairs. But we must get my mother away. She will
say something that will do harm. Ask Kezia to fetch her down, and keep
her engaged with something in the kitchen."

Kezia was equal to the task. Having declared her intention of staying
till the master could get about again, "wage or no wage," she had
found a certain recompense in keeping a strong hand over her mistress,
scolding her for "moithering" herself, and going about all day without
changing her cap, and looking as if she was "mushed." Altogether, this
time of trouble was rather a Saturnalian time to Kezia; she could
scold her betters with unreproved freedom. On this particular occasion
there were drying clothes to be fetched in; she wished to know if one
pair of hands could do everything in-doors and out, and observed that
_she_ should have thought it would be good for Mrs. Tulliver to put on
her bonnet, and get a breath of fresh air by doing that needful piece
of work. Poor Mrs. Tulliver went submissively downstairs; to be
ordered about by a servant was the last remnant of her household
dignities,--she would soon have no servant to scold her. Mr. Tulliver
was resting in his chair a little after the fatigue of dressing, and
Maggie and Tom were seated near him, when Luke entered to ask if he
should help master downstairs.

"Ay, ay, Luke; stop a bit, sit down," said Mr. Tulliver pointing his
stick toward a chair, and looking at him with that pursuant gaze