"I bought 'em for you," she murmured. "I thought as 'ow you'd like to smell 'em!"
Mrs. Perkins gave a scornful smile.
"A very likely story. Don't you tell me no more lies! Bought 'em for me, indeed! When did you ever do such a wonder? The skies might fall before you'd give a thought to your sick aunt! You takes her money and vittles, and the clothes she gives yer, and you grumbles at all you has to do for her. Oh! If ever you loses your legs and lies on a hard bed, may you know what it is to have an ungrateful girl a-waitin' on yer!"
A sullen look crossed Peggy's face. She did not attempt to argue the matter out, or prove herself in the right. But she felt as if she would never try to do a kindness to her aunt again. She began to make preparations for tea, and she pitched the violets down on the floor.
That gave an occasion for another scolding, and Mrs. Perkins finally gave orders that the flowers were to be put in a tumbler of fresh water and placed on the window-ledge.
"I only 'opes as you came by 'em honest; but there's no sayin'. I may as well 'ave the good of 'em now they're here."
Peggy was wakened out of her sleep that night by a call from her aunt.
"That old pain agen! It must be those shrimps I took. Oh dear! Oh dear! I feel as if I can't bear it!"
"Shall I rub you?" asked Peggy.
When her aunt seemed weak and helpless, she felt pity for her at once.