"Millie isn't a London dressmaker. She isn't anything of that sort. Why, I told you she had always lived in the country, and had only done dressmaking for her own amusement. And I think you ought to be glad to help her,—all alone in the world as she is, with no home or friends. Other people have tried to help her, at any rate. She won't take the bread out of anybody's mouth; she is a great deal more likely to take it out of her own. Mildred isn't at all a sort of person to do harm to other people. And you have often and often told me that you might easily take in a lot more work, if only you had a third pair of hands to depend upon. And now that you might have the third pair, you just turn against it."
Jessie's little outburst was not without effect. The sisters looked one at another, shook their respective heads, and finally promised to "think about things."
"We couldn't always give her work, that is certain. Not when there isn't much doing, you know. But just now and then, perhaps. We might try what she is worth, you know. People so often say they can work who really can't put two breadths together. But of course we should like to do anything we can to help her. You ought to be sure of that, my dear. And if we find her capable and not pushing, and willing to do what she is told, why, then, just once in a way—"
[CHAPTER XI]
INNUENDOS
MISS COXEN came to a pause, and Jessie felt the prospect unsatisfactory. Her visions of great success and crowded time for Mildred had waxed dim.
She was, however, wise enough to be thankful for small things, and her neatly expressed thanks went far towards disarming the sisters of their spirit of opposition to the scheme. Again they promised to "think it over," each enforcing the other's words with repetitions, and Jessie had to say, "Thank you so much," at least six times in acknowledgment.
After all this, the temptation to recur to Jack Groates became irresistible. Miss Coxen looked across the road, opening and shutting her eyes with meaning, and Miss Sophy gave vent to little sympathetic gasps.
"And how is that poor young fellow getting on?" asked Miss Coxen in benignant tones.
Jessie's mother-wit came quickly to her aid.