"But I mean to," responded Bess. "So there! I did think I'd have a talk with you—and you won't."
Nancy's eyes looked into those of Bess.
"Don't be vexed," the gentle girl urged. "I'll have a talk with mother, and she'll let me see you, I'm sure."
"She don't like girls as wears hair like mine. I know," said Bess, with a careless shake of the unkempt mass which descended low on her freckled forehead. "I've seen her look me over. I know."
"Mother doesn't think that sort of thing respectable for girls in our position, Bess," said Nancy quietly.
"Nor you don't neither," said Bess.
"No," said Nancy.
Bess shoved back the loose mass, stared at Nancy and suddenly burst into tears.
"I'd be respectable if I could," she sobbed. "Nobody's never taught me; and I don't know how. I'd learn from you, that I would—and you won't help me! I'd best give up, that's what I'd best do! I'll give up, and I'll never speak one word to you again, that I won't."
But Nancy's hand was on Bess' arm, detaining her, when she would have rushed away.