"She's a naughty girl, Lily is," protested Mrs. Alfrick, while the other children began to cry; they found no enjoyment in a quarrel between Mary and their mother, for Mary's crimes were usually visited on them. "I gave her buns and sweets just like my own—I told her to come along with them and we'd all enjoy ourselves together."
"Where is she?"
"I paid a penny for her to go into that there theatre along of us—and it's more than many would have done for a brat like her—and we hadn't been there a quarter of an hour when she begins to cry and say she's frightened, just because there was a few murders on the stage—like there always is, you know. Well, I couldn't have her making a disturbance in there—they'd have turned out the lot of us in no time—so I just sent her along out with Lizzie, and told 'em both they was to stop about the gate till we come. Lizzie's a good girl and does as she's bid. She was pleased to go out with Lily; you know what a fuss she always makes of her."
"But where are they now?"
"Do just stop your noise, Mary. Ain't I telling you? They're somewhere outside here, waiting for us. I won't deny as that performance was longer than I expected—but don't you worrit now. They're as right as they can be."
"I hope so," said Mary grimly. "But all I can say is, I've been waiting about here for you half-an-hour or more, and I've seen nothing of them."
"Oh, it was longer ago than half-an-hour," said Mrs. Alfrick. "They've got back to the stalls and the music. Lily wanted to stop by the music before."
"Lily ought never to have come here at all, that's where it is," said Mary. "You don't mean to tell me Mrs. Randal sent her?"
She would hardly have confessed it, but she was rather more at ease now. Lizzie Alfrick was a steady child of nine years old, the best of the family. She would indeed, with a better bringing up, have been a nice little girl; but Mrs. Alfrick's system of alternate spoiling and knocking about was not likely to improve any character.
Mary had no satisfactory answer to her question.