Again, some were wholly hostile. They were
the "belly-crawlers," as Geordie Sinclair had once dubbed them at a
meeting, those who "kept in" with the management by carrying tales, and
generally acting as traitors to the other men.
"No, I'll no' gi'e ye onythin'," would be the reply; "he can just be
like me an' gang an' work for his bairns. Forby, look at yon stuck-up
baggage o' a wife o' his. She can hardly pass the time o' day wi'
ye--she thinks hersel' somethin'."
"Very well," Andrew would reply, "maybe ye ha'e mair need o't for other
things." And he would pass on to the next house.
He had gathered between three and four pounds, contributed sometimes
even in pennies, and going to Geordie's house, he knocked at the door.
This was the most uncomfortable part of his work, and he stood shifting
from one foot to the other, wondering what he would say when he entered.
Mrs. Sinclair was busy washing the floor and cleaning up, after having
been at work all day washing for someone in the village. She wiped her
hands and opened the door.
"How are ye a' keepin' the night?" inquired Andrew, as he stepped inside
at Mrs. Sinclair's invitation, feeling more and more uncomfortable.
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