"Oh, Prissy, poor child!" exclaimed Rachel; "you have been hurt!"
"Yes, mum," said Prissy. "Mrs. Macrory's gal--she's twice as big as me; you should see 'er legs!--she ses, 'You're in that job,' she ses, meaning the peddicut; and she lets fly and gives me a one-er on account."
Rachel ran upstairs, and brought down a bottle of gillard water, with which she bathed the bruise, and tied one of her clean white handkerchiefs over it. Prissy stood quite still, her lips quivering; it may have been the gillard water that filled the girl's unbandaged eye with tears.
"That will make you feel easier," said Rachel. "Blow out the candles now, and be here at half-past eight in the morning."
"I'll be sure to be," said Prissy, with a shake in her voice.
In the dark Aaron Cohen heard the sound of a kiss.
"Good-night, sir," said the girl.
"Good-night, Prissy," said Aaron.
The chain of the street door was put up, and the shutters securely fastened, and then Aaron and Rachel, hand in hand, went up the dark stairs to their room.
"My dear," said Aaron, drowsily, a few minutes after he and his wife were in bed, "are you asleep?"