Kittie promised that this should never happen, privately remembering that it was a thing her mother never allowed, though she recalled with compunction, that now and then—but still she felt different now from what she used to do, and she must ask for help from the Lord Jesus.
All that passed through her mind as she made the promise, but the curate's wife could not tell that. She only thought that this little girl seemed very straightforward.
"So you would be able to come before breakfast, and light the kitchen fire?" she asked.
"Oh, yes, ma'am."
"But does not your mother want you, as you have such a large family at home?"
"No, ma'am, 'cause mother's obliged to stay at home with the little 'uns, and she says as we didn't ought both of us to be at home."
"But I am afraid I shall not be able to pay you as much as I should like, Kittie; I have very little to spend; and yet—" She sighed. "I am so tired, and it would be such a comfort to have you if you were a good girl."
"I'd try to be, ma'am," answered Kittie; "but—mother says I'm very tiresome sometimes."
The curate's wife smiled kindly.
"We all are," she said gently; "but if we know it, and try to be better, so as to please our Lord and Master, we are sure to improve."