“Oh, yes,” she said; “the little Irish girl who came into a fortune.”
“Yes’m,” said Betty. “That’s me, ma’am. And since then I’ve found my mother, and she’s here with me. But I want to buy her a Christmas present unbeknownst to her, and I thought you’d be willing to help me a bit if I asked you.”
“What a strange child!” said Mrs. Sanderson, putting up her lorgnette to look at Betty again.
“Yes, I am, ma’am. But will you help me buy the present, and then I’ll introduce my mother; you’ll love her, ma’am, she’s that sweet!”
Always when Betty was embarrassed or excited she slipped back into her almost forgotten brogue. And perhaps it was that and the persuasive little voice that touched Mrs. Sanderson’s sympathies, for she said kindly:
“Why, certainly, my dear; I’ll help you with pleasure. What do you want to buy?”
“I want a small diamond brooch, please, and not too grand a one; my mother doesn’t like things too grand. But a plainish one that she could wear every day, and yet a good one at that.”
Mrs. Sanderson smiled, but she seemed to understand, and as the affable salesman showed them various styles, she selected one that seemed to fit accurately Betty’s requirements.
“This, I think, is lovely,” she said; “I’m sure your mother would like it.”
“I’m sure, too,” said Betty, “and it’s the very one I like best myself.”