"I've brought you some vi'lets, Aunt, to smell."
Mrs. Perkins turned in her bed. Her face looked white and drawn.
"I've that queer pain in my side agen, Peg," she murmured. "Give me a drop o' gin and hot water."
Peggy put down her violets hastily, and went to the cupboard for the gin bottle, which, for Mrs. Perkins' credit, I must say, was hardly ever used by her.
She soon brought her some hot drink in a tumbler.
Mrs. Perkins seemed better after she had drunk it, and once more sat up in bed.
"It took me all of a sudden," she explained; "and I've a lot of work to be got through. Here, Peggy, give me over that wool. Did you say you 'ad some vi'lets? Where did you get 'em?"
"I bought 'em, Aunt."
"Bought vi'lets!" Mrs. Perkins' tone changed. "Why, you wicked, wasteful girl! And where did you get the money? Me lyin' here and slavin' from morn to night to keep us from starvin', and you out in the streets a-buying flowers like any carriage lady! You ought to be ashamed of yerself, that you did!"
Peggy hung her head.