"Then comes dinner," he went on. " Eight ounces
of bread, one and a arf ounces of cheese, an cold
water. Then you finish your task an ave supper,
same as before, three parts o skilly an six ounces
o bread. Then to bed, six o clock, an next mornin
you re turned loose, provided you ve finished your
task."

We had long since left Mile End Road, and
after traversing a gloomy maze of narrow, winding
streets, we came to Poplar Workhouse. On a low
stone wall we spread our handkerchiefs, and each in
his handkerchief put all his worldly possessions
with the exception of the bit o baccy down his
sock. And then, as the last light was fading from
the drab-colored sky, the wind blowing cheerless
and cold, we stood, with our pitiful little bundles in
our hands, a forlorn group at the workhouse door.

Three working girls came along, and one looked
pityingly at me; as she passed I followed her with
my eyes, and she still looked pityingly back at me.
The old men she did not notice. Dear Christ, she
pitied me, young and vigorous and strong, but she
had no pity for the two old men who stood by my
side ! She was a young woman, and I was a young
man, and what vague sex promptings impelled her
to pity me put her sentiment on the lowest plane.
Pity for old men is an altruistic feeling, and besides,
the workhouse door is the accustomed place for old

[[83]]

p082 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p083w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p084

v?