She went into Mrs. Creak's little shop soon again.
"You see, 'm," she said, "I believe if some one was to come and talk my aunt over, she might let me go. There's a girl on the ground floor who would do for her for sixpence a week. Now, if I was out, wouldn't I be gettin' that?"
"Well, yes, dearie, and a good bit more."
"Then I'd be able to pay the girl, and aunt would be looked after. Oh, please 'm, couldn't yer come round one day and talk to aunt."
Mrs. Creak shook her head doubtfully.
"I couldn't myself, but there's the district lady. I could speak to her."
"She's no good," said Peggy. "Aunt won't let her indoors. She says she talks too much religion. She giv' her a trac' one day called 'The Happy Cripple,' and aunt said she were pokin' fun at her."
"Ah," said Mrs. Creak, with a little sigh, "your aunt ain't found out that happiness is found in the very folk who seem to have the least to make 'em happy. I should say your aunt would be better for more religion, my dear."
Peggy leant forward and spoke under her breath—
"She don't like God, 'm, and that's the real fac'! When her legs were hurt under the waggon, and she never walked agen, she giv' up sayin' prayers."