"Then do you live here quite alone?" I inquired.

"Barring the cat, I do. I did 'ave a parrot one time, 'cos it's nasty
temper seemed to make it more 'omelike; but t' lads, young imps, taught
it all sorts o' indecent stuff, which made it as I 'ad to part wi' it,
an' it was nearly like losing a 'usband a second time. It used to be
that gruff an' masterful you wouldn't think! No, I reckon nowt o'
livin' by mysen."

"It is not good that man should be alone," I quoted.

"It's worse for woman," she said, "an' yet, to be sure, I don't know,
for a woman 'at is a woman can allus make shift somehow, an' doesn't
stand pullin' a long face an' cussin' providence. But men are poor
menseless creatures when they're left to theirsens; an' it allus caps
me to think 'at they call theirsens 'lords o' creation,' an' yet 'as to
fetch a woman to sew a gallus button on, an' 'ud let t' 'ouse get lost
i' muck afore they'd clean it. Suppose a man lived 'ere by hissen, do
you think this kitchen 'ud look like this?"

"I am very sure it would not," I replied, "and it wouldn't if some
women lived here."

"Well, anyway, it just goes to prove 'at men need women to look after
'em, but for all that it's bad enough for a woman to be alone. To be
sure, she's a poor sort 'at hasn't more about 'er nor a man, an' it
isn't 'at she's flayed o' bein' by hersen or can't manage for hersen,
or owt o' that. No, no. But there's summat short, for all that. Ye
can take it from me, miss, 'at Eve 'ud sooner have been driven out o'
Eden wi' her 'usband, nor have been left there to fend for hersen.
Women doesn't want to be t' boss: they want to be bossed, or anyway
they like t' man to think 'at he's bossin' 'em. An' they like 'im to
come in wi' his great dirty boots spreadin' t' muck all ovver t' floor,
an' puttin' 'em on t' scoured 'earthstone, so as they can 'call' 'im
an' clear up after 'im.

"Oh, aye, to be sure, an' they like to see 'im light his pipe an' then
fratch wi' 'im for fillin' t' 'ouse wi' smoke; an' even if he knocks ye
about a bit now an' then, he sidles up to ye at after, an' 'appen puts
'is arms round ye, an'--an' makes a fool of hissen; but ye feel t' want
on it when ye've been used to 't."

"But we cannot all have husbands," I objected; "there are not enough of
the other sex to go round."

"To be sure, that's so," she consented; "but that doesn't alter t' fact
'at we want 'em, does it? But I'd tax all t' men 'at isn't married,