MARY. [_Firmly._] I won't do it, Joe. I've been a good wife to you--I've
been a good mother: and I love you, though I'm ragged and have pawned all
my clothes; and I'll strangle myself rather than go to the workhouse and
be shut away from you.
JOE. [_With a loud cry._] No! I'll _make_ them give me something; and if I
_have_ to kill, it shan't be my wife and child! To-morrow I'll come home
with food and money--to-morrow--
[_There is a sudden wail from the child;_ JOE _stops and stares
at her;_ MARY _goes quickly to the mattress and soothes the
little girl._
MARY. Hush, dear, hush--no it's not morning yet, not time for breakfast.
Go to sleep again, dear. Yes, daddy's come back, and things are going to
be all right now--No, dear, you can't be hungry, really--remember those
beautiful cakes. Go to sleep, Minnie, dear. You're cold? [_She takes off
her ragged shawl and wraps it round the child._] There, dear, you won't be
cold now. Go to sleep, Minnie--
[_The child's wail dies away, as_ MARY _soothes her back to
sleep._
JOE. [_Staggering forward with a sudden cry._] God, O God, give us bread!