It seemed to her that the country was being run by a set of villains.
"The world is in a bad way," she declared. "I don't know what we're
coming to." And an expression of bleak satisfaction illuminated her
face, wrinkled with age.
"Yes," said Mr. Jeminy, "these are unhappy times. I am afraid we are
leaving behind us a difficult task for those who follow. They had a
right to expect better things of us, Mrs. Ploughman."
"I've not left anything behind," said Mrs. Ploughman decidedly; "not
yet."
"I should hope not," ejaculated Mrs. Crabbe. "No."
"It's the young," said Mrs. Ploughman, "who get the old into trouble.
Nothing ever suits them until they're in mischief; and then it's up to
their elders to pull them out again. I know, for I've seen it, father
and son."
"It is the old," said Mr. Jeminy, "who get the young into trouble."
"Is it, indeed?" said Mrs. Ploughman.
"Well, I don't believe it." And she gave Mr. Jeminy a bright, peaked
look.
"Then," she continued, "when you've done for them, year in and year
out, off they go, and that's the end of it.
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