| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
 |
|
| Page | 166 |
|
|
| Chapter | -- |
|
|
| Text |
`No; I won't stay,' responded Owen. `I don't want to stand about any longer than I can help in these wet clothes.' `But it won't take you a minit to drink a cup of tea,' Linden insisted. `I won't ask you to stop longer than that.' Owen entered; the old man closed the door and led the way into the kitchen. At one side of the fire, Linden's wife, a frail-looking old lady with white hair, was seated in a large armchair, knitting. Linden sat down in a similar chair on the other side. The two grandchildren, a boy and girl about seven and eight years, respectively, were still seated at the table. Standing by the side of the dresser at one end of the room was a treadle sewing machine, and on one end of the dresser was a a pile of sewing: ladies' blouses in process of making. This was another instance of the goodness of Mr Sweater, from whom Linden's daughter-in-law obtained the work. It was not much, because she |
|
|
|
|
