"I knew you would be sorry for us, miss," Mrs. Medland rejoined in a choked voice, the tears coursing down her pale, thin cheeks. "We've met with a terrible loss," she proceeded, "least-ways, I have, for Malvina was a good daughter to me. I can't wish her back again, though, for she suffered so much that death came as a blessed release at last, but often and often since the poor dear went I've wished that my life was ended, too."
"Oh, you mustn't say that," said Ann, "for you know you've Lottie—"
"Lottie!" broke in Mrs. Medland; "yes, I've Lottie, but, oh, Miss Ann, you don't understand how little Lottie cares for me! If she had a particle of affection for me, do you think she'd leave me evening after evening as she does, knowing how lonesome and sad I feel without Malvina, to go pleasure seeking? Oh, dear, oh dear! And it's so soon after her poor sister's death too! Oh, I can think of my dead daughter with far less sorrow than I can think of my living one, for I know Malvina's safe with Jesus, but Lottie's very far from the Kingdom of God."
"Those two girls of mine had the same bringing up, and yet how different they've always been! Lottie was always difficult to manage and would have her own way. She works hard, 'tis true, but how does she spend her money? I see very little of it, most of it goes in betting; and now she's crazy about the hobby-horses, they're here for a week in the Recreation Ground, and every night she's there watching them or having rides if she can get the money, with a lot of other factory hands—flighty young girls like herself, who care for nothing but amusing themselves. I wish those hobby-horses had never come to Barford."
"Hobby-horses?" said Violet, looking mystified, for she had never seen anything of the kind.
"Round-abouts some people call them, they go round and round for a certain time, worked by steam, and they're lit up at night by electric lights," explained Mrs. Medland. "This particular round-about comes here every now and again and carries away a lot of money from the place; I'm not saying I think there's any real harm in folks riding on it, but for Lottie whose sister hasn't been in her grave a month—oh, it does seem heartless of her and no mistake!" And the poor woman, overcome with grief, wept unrestrainedly.
It certainly did seem heartless, and neither Ann nor Violet could think of any words suitable for the occasion. Whilst Mrs. Medland was still in tears, the street door opened, and a minute later Lottie appeared on the threshold of the room. She paused at the sight of her mother's visitors, a look of consternation on her face; and then, without a word, she turned away and ran hurriedly upstairs.
"Is she not going to speak to us?" said Ann, in astonishment. "Why has she gone?"
"I don't know, miss," Mrs. Medland answered, with a troubled sigh, "I don't know what's taken to her."
"Perhaps she has only gone to take off her hat and jacket," suggested Violet; "no doubt she will be down presently."