_] You an' your piety an' religion--did
they serve to keep the life in my poor children? In rags an' dirt they
lay, all the four--it didn't as much as keep 'em dry. Yes! I sets up to
be a mother, that's what I do--an' if you'd like to know it, that's why
I'd send all the manufacturers to hell--because I'm a mother!--Not one of
the four could I keep in life! It was cryin' more than breathin' with me
from the time each poor little thing came into the world till death took
pity on it. The devil a bit you cared! You sat there prayin' and singin',
and let me run about till my feet bled, tryin' to get one little drop o'
skim milk. How many hundred nights has I lain an' racked my head to think
what I could do to cheat the churchyard of my little one? What harm has a
baby like that done that it must come to such a miserable end--eh? An'
over there at Dittrich's they're bathed in wine an' washed in milk. No!
you may talk as you like, but if they begins here, ten horses won't hold
me back. An' what's more--if there's a rush on Dittrich's, you'll see me
in the forefront of it--an' pity the man as tries to prevent me--I've
stood it long enough, so now you know it.
OLD HILSE
You're a lost soul--there's no help for you.
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