PICTURES OF LIFE.
ladys sat down, and suddenly became conscious of what she was carrying, a little flower-pot, in which bloomed a handful of Roman hyacinths, their delicate and lovely blossoms nestling among the tender green of their own leaves, and a bit of hardy fern. It was her only treasure, which she had bought for a few pence in the market one morning, and she had nothing else to bring to Liz.
'Will you take this? Is it not very pretty? I love it so much, but I have brought it for you. My father liked a flower when he was ill.'
Liz gave another enigmatical nod, and a faint, slow, melancholy smile gathered about the lips of Teen as she sat down to her work again, after having stirred the fire and pushed the dirty brown teapot on to the coals. In this teapot a black decoction brewed all day, and was partaken of at intervals by the two; sometimes they ate a morsel of bread to it, but other sustenance they had none. Little wonder the face of Teen was as cadaverous as the grave.
Then followed an awkward silence, during which Liz played with the frayed edge of the blanket, and Teen stitched away for dear life at a coarse garment, which appeared to be a canvas jacket. A whole pile of the same lay on the unoccupied bed, and Gladys vaguely wondered whether the same fingers must reduce the number, but she did not presume to ask. She did not feel drawn to the melancholy seamstress, whose thin lips had a hard, cold curve.
'Were you reading when I came in? I'm afraid I have stopped you,' said Gladys at length.
'Ay, I was readin' to Teen "Lord Bellew's Bride; or the Curse of Mountford Abbey." Splendid, isn't it, Teen?' said Liz quite brightly. 'We buy'd atween us every week. I'll len' ye'd, if ye like. It comes oot on Wednesday. Wat could bring'd on the Monday.'
'Thank you very much,' said Gladys. 'I haven't much time; I have a great deal to do in the house.'
'Hae ye? Ay, Wat telt me; an', michty! ye dinna look as if ye could dae onything. The auld sinner, I'd pooshin him!'