“This is a dull room!” exclaimed Philippa.
She had just finished unpacking the basket of good things she had brought for Becky, and still knelt beside it, with various parcels spread out round her on the floor. Miss Mervyn had left her at the Tuvvys’ cottage for a quarter of an hour, while she went to do some shopping in the town, and would call for her again in the pony-carriage, so that the two children were alone. They had been very silent hitherto, Philippa occupied with her unpacking, and Becky gazing at her meanwhile with shy admiration. It was like looking at a pretty picture, she thought—only better, because it was real; and her dark eyes examined her visitor’s face and dress narrowly, while the kitten, alarmed at the entrance of a stranger, peeped out from the safe shelter of her arms. Neither she nor her mistress was accustomed to see such fine drooping feathers as those in Philippa’s hat, nor such a soft white dress with lace frills. They seemed to make everything round them look dingier and more shabby. Philippa herself however, was much too busy to notice anything but the contents of her basket for some time. She continued to pull out package after package, naming each as she laid it on the floor, “Arrowroot, eggs, sponge-cakes,” in a business-like manner, until she reached the last. Then tossing back her long hair, she sat back on her heels, gave a searching look round the room, and without a moment’s hesitation exclaimed: “This is a dull room!”
Becky did not answer. Now that Philippa was there, it did look darker and more dismal than usual somehow, and the ceiling blacker with smoke.
“Do you lie here alone all day?” asked Philippa. “Don’t you hate it?”
“’Tain’t so bad as it used to be,” said Becky.
“I couldn’t bear it,” remarked Philippa, after gazing at Becky for a minute with her mouth wide open.
“Folks has got to bear things,” said Becky.
“I don’t bear things,” returned Philippa quickly; “I cry, and then mother or some one gets me what I want.”
“If I was to cry ever so, mother wouldn’t hear me,” said Becky, “because she’s out charing all day. Anyhow, she couldn’t make my back well. Dr Price says as how nought but patience will do that, an’ plenty to eat.”
“Well, you’ll have some nourishing things now, won’t you?” said Philippa, with a glance at the parcels, “and I hope they’ll make you well. And when you’ve eaten them all, I’m going to bring you some more.”