They hae clean claes to wear, a fine white
collar every day, an' sae mony claes that they can put on a different
rig-oot every day. Their work is no' hard, an' look at the pay they get;
no' like your faither wi' his two or three shillin's a day. They hae the
best o' it," she concluded, as she rested her elbows on her knees and
again searched his face keenly to see if her arguments had had any
effect upon him.
"Ay, but I'd raither work," reiterated the boy stubbornly.
"Then they hae plenty o' books," continued the temptress, loth to give
up and keen to draw as rosy a picture as possible, "and a braw hoose,
an' a piano in it. They get a lang holiday every year, and occasional
days besides, an' their pay for it. But a collier gets nae pay when he's
idle. It's the same auld grind awa' at hard work, among damp, an' gas,
an' bad air, an' aye the chance o' being killed wi' falls of stone or
something else. It's no' a nice life. It's gey ill paid, an' forby
naebody ever respects them."
"Ay, mither; but do you no' mind what Bob Smillie said?" chipped in the
boy readily, glad that he could quote such an authority to back his
view. "It's because they dinna respect themselves.
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