The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 90: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. 8] fatal knife, and the inhabitants of the hutches ate and slept on in undisturbed security and innocence. At the very period when the partners, Messrs. Grindem and Small, were so anxious to obtain posses- sion of the papers which they felt morally assured Gridley had confided to the safe keeping of his humble friend, poor Tim had fallen in arrears with his landlord, one of those hard-fisted men who call exaction by the name of justice. Work was slack, and bread was dear. Poor Meg was at her wit’send The cottage in one week had been twice scrubbed from top to bottom, the scanty furniture duly rubbed, and little Tim done penance in the corner more frequently than usual. The misfortune which had fallen upon the weaver was the misfortune of a class, not of an individual; all the hand-loom weavers suffered, and robberies of hen-roosts and pigeon-cotes became of daily occurrence. Tim’s wife was one morning in the yard, eyeing wistfully the hutches which contained wherewith to make so many excellent dinners for her young family, and working up her mind to a desperate resolution, when Marjoram, the officer, opened the little wicket, and presented himself before her. The person of the officer was as well known in Manchester as the Infir- mary clock, or the bow window of the Exchange. Like most uneducated persons, poor Meg had an in- stinctive terror of the man of authority, and turned pale as she saw him approach with a smiling face, and wished her good morning. VOL. I. G COUN Goo! SS (SO