"I don't," said Lizzie doggedly. "I might be quite as good as Emma, but nobody would ever think any more of me for it; and so I mean to take things easy. It's Emma's luck to be thought so much of," she concluded.
"Luck has nothing to do with it," said Mrs. Betts. "She has earned a character for being good-natured and obliging, while you have got one for discontent. I tell you, though, that you must be contented where you are, for I cannot and will not have you at home, though this fresh washing has come in," concluded her mother.
So Lizzie went back feeling greatly disappointed and very unhappy; for she had made up her mind that when her mother got this washing, she would certainly be compelled to have her home in spite of what she had told her mistress. In fact, the foolish girl began to think it was entirely owing to her, that her own plans had failed. If she had not gone to her mother as she did, Lizzie felt sure that, having secured the washing for her, she could easily have persuaded her that it was best to give up her place and come home to help with it; but the premature disclosure of these plans had spoiled them altogether.
So it was in no pleasant mood that she went back on Sunday evening. And far from resolving to try and do better in future, she made up her mind to do all she could to vex and annoy her mistress. By this means, too, she might be able to compel her mother to let her go home, and once at home, she would turn over a new leaf, and be so steady and industrious, that her mother would not want to part with her again.
Just as she was about to turn into the street where she lived, her attention was attracted by half-a-dozen caravans that slowly rolled along the road, a group of men and women talking loudly in dispute beside them.
Lizzie paused a minute to look at the gaudily-painted picture on the outside of one, when an elderly red-faced woman stepped up to her.
"My dear, can you tell me the way to Snowfields?" she said.
Lizzie's head was full of the pictures painted on the caravan, and she wondered whether she could go and see the wax-work figures they represented.
"Are these shows going to Snowfields?" she said, after she had taken some pains to point out the way to the woman.
"Yes, my dear, we shall be there for a week; and if you like to come round some evening and ask for Mrs. Stanley, why, you shall see the wax-works, and maybe have your fortune told if you can bring a bit of silver with you, just to cross your hand with," said the woman.