"But it doesn't make me better," Melina said. For once in her life she felt she had the advantage of her grandmother, and she was taking a naughty pleasure in the fact; she could say what she liked, for the old woman was too ill and weak to touch her. "The more you beat me the worse I am," she declared, "and I hate you—oh, you don't know how I hate you for being so cruel!" Her eyes flashed with indignation, and her thin frame trembled.
Astonishment kept Mrs. Berryman silent for a minute, then she said in a tone which was very mild for her:
"That's a nice way to talk to your grandmother! Don't stand there staring at me like that! Here, take my keys and get your dinner—you'll find some bacon in the corner cupboard; and don't let me see you again till I call for you. I'm going to try to get a nap, for I feel just worn out."
From under her pillow the old woman drew a bunch of keys, which she extended to her granddaughter, who took it in silence and went downstairs into the kitchen. The little girl knew which key fitted the lock of the corner cupboard, and, having unlocked the cupboard, she took therefrom a lump of fat bacon and a very stale loaf. She cut herself some bread and bacon, and, being very hungry, made an excellent meal; having done which she locked away the remains of her repast and the groceries she had purchased, and slipped the bunch of keys into her pocket.
It was cold in the kitchen, for the fire had burnt low; so Melina, making as little noise as possible, fetched some fuel from a cupboard under the stairs and made up the fire afresh. Soon she was warming herself before a fine blaze.
"I may as well make myself comfortable now Gran's out of the way," she reflected; "I wonder what she'd say if she saw how much coal I've used!"
A smile flickered across her face, but it was not a pleasant smile; for it was full of bitterness, and made her look old beyond her years. The expression of her countenance changed a few minutes later, however, as she thought of the little gentleman and recalled how kindly he had spoken to her, and her eyes—clear, changeful, hazel eyes they were—grew wonderfully gentle and soft.
"Fancy his wanting to be my friend!" she mused. "I can't understand why he should! And he said 'God bless you'! I shall never forget it—never, as long as I live! Oh, I do hope I shall see him again!"
Melina was unaccustomed to kindness, and, hitherto, she had felt at war with all the world. She was a sadly neglected little girl, and, it must be admitted, a very naughty one, disobedient to those in authority over her, and impatient of control. Frequently she would stay away from school for days, and pass her time in wandering about the streets gazing into the shop windows, or in taking long tramps in the country; and on several occasions the attendance officer had brought complaints to her grandmother: the last time he had called he had warned Mrs. Berryman that she would be summoned to appear before the magistrates if she did not see that her grandchild went properly to school. That had been the previous week; and, subsequently, Mrs. Berryman, who had been drinking, had given Melina the unmerciful beating which, though it had left her sore and bruised in body, had not broken her spirit in the least.
Presently Melina heard a rap at the back door, and went to see who was there. It was William Jones.