Do you know
that the _Craftsman_ is always attacking my friends, Mr. Pope, Dr.
Swift, Dr. Arbuthnot? As for myself--but that's no matter."
"Oh, Amherst's a gadfly, no doubt. But your friends can take care of
themselves. For every blow they get they can if it so pleases them, give
two in return."
"That's true, and I'll say nothing more. I wish your friend well rid of
the rascally D'Anvers. Look after him, Jemmy. Come Polly--let us to your
mother."
Both Spiller and Leveridge saw that Gay was not to be turned from his
resolution to help the girl, and presently she and her new found friend
were threading their way through a network of courts and alleys finally
emerging into the squalid thoroughfare between New Street and Chandos
Street.
The dirt and the poverty-stricken aspect of the locality did not deter
the poet from his intention. Bedfordbury was not worse than St. Giles.
The girl led him to a shabby coffee shop from the interior of which
issued a hot and sickly air.
"That's mother," she whispered when they were in the doorway.
A buxom woman not too neatly dressed, whose apron bore traces of
miscellaneous kitchen work, scowled when her eyes lighted on her
daughter.
"So you've come home, you lazy good-for-nothing hussy," she screamed.
"Where have you been? You don't care how hard I have to work so long as
you can go a pleasuring. There's plenty for you to do here.
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