"We are thinking of sending you to a day-school after Easter," Miss Pamela broke in; "I fear your education has been sadly neglected."
"Mother taught me all I know," the little girl explained. "She says she does not think I am backward for my age; but, of course, she could not spare much time to teach me, with all the housework to do, and—"
"But have you not a servant?" Miss Holcroft asked, in accents of surprise.
"No, Aunt Mary. Our home is only a workman's flat. Mother and I used to do the cleaning and cooking, and now she will have to do it all by herself—Rupert says he will help though; I am forgetting! Then mother has her needlework to do besides!"
"Needlework?"
"Yes. She sells it to a shop—"
Marigold paused abruptly, conscious of the astonishment and disapproval on her aunts' countenances. Miss Pamela was the first to speak—
"I never imagined our nephew's widow could have fallen so low as that!" she exclaimed.
The hot, angry colour rushed to Marigold's face, flooding it from brow to chin. She was about to make a passionate retort, when she caught an appealing glance from Miss Holcroft, and the words died on her lips. Already she had forgotten her mother's warning, and nearly allowed her unruly tongue to have its way.
"Mother has not fallen low," she said gently, when she had sufficiently overcome her wrath to choose what her reply should be; "I don't think you quite understand, Aunt Pamela. Mother has to work because father had not enough money to give her when he died to keep us all. Mother says we need not be ashamed of being poor; and God helps those who try to do their best!"