"And why, pray?" asked Gladys, with an air of surprise.
"Because you have so much to enjoy, and they so little," said Aldyth. "Most of them are as young, if not younger than you, and a few of them—forgive me, Gladys—are almost as pretty. I often long to try the effect of dressing them in fresh, becoming frocks. But their lives are hard and rough. Most of them toil from eight in the morning till eight at night, and some of them, who call themselves 'shop girls,' work till even later. There was a girl to whom I spoke to-night, a bright young girl of fifteen, and when I offered her a book, she told me she could not read because her eyes were so bad, owing to her having to do her work—stitching babies' bibs—under a strong gaslight all day long. Another girl, who has to go up and down many flights of stairs during the day, could not join in a game because her ankles were so dreadfully swollen. Does it not seem hard that some young girls should have to live so, whilst others have everything that heart can wish, and nothing to do but enjoy themselves? I am sure when I look on those girls, I am ashamed to think what an easy, self-indulgent life I have always led."
There was a passionate quiver in Aldyth's voice as she spoke, which showed that tears were not far from her eyes. Gladys was not unmoved by her earnest words.
"But they belong to the working class," she said. "They cannot expect to lead such lives as ours."
"Oh, they know that well enough," said Aldyth. "It is wonderful to me how patiently they bear their hard lot. 'Ladies have fine times of it; it is good to be born a lady,' I heard a girl say to-night; but it is rarely we hear such remarks. And yet, human nature is the same in every class, and these girls have the same feelings as you and I."
"Aldyth!" said Gladys, in a sceptical tone.
"Indeed they have," said Aldyth. "They yearn for happiness as we do, they feel the same eagerness for every attainable pleasure; they love things that are bright and pretty. Ah, you should have seen how eager they were for a few flowers I took to-day. The bunch was gone in no time, and the girls who could not get a flower were sadly disappointed. I had to promise that I would bring some more next week. I shall ask aunt to send me some from Woodham. The primroses must be coming out there now."
"It is very good of you to take so much trouble," said Gladys.
"Oh, I think we more fortunate girls are bound to do all we can to help and gladden our poor sisters," said Aldyth. "Do you know when I was with them to-night, I kept thinking of those words in the Bible—'Who maketh thee to differ from another? And what hast thou that thou didst not receive?' I think we are apt to forget that all the good things we have received—our education, accomplishments, personal attractions—are all trusts, given to us to be used for others, and not simply for our own enjoyment."
"Oh, don't be so dreadfully solemn!" exclaimed Gladys, suddenly springing up. "Aldyth, you really must marry a parson, for at a pinch, you could make his sermons for him, and it would be a great pity such a talent should be wasted."