"Yes, I daresay it will," said Lizzie, folding over the corner of the ironing-cloth; "but still I don't see why I should have to put up with strange people's tempers when I can help you at home."
"But I don't want you at home," remonstrated her mother. "The little bit of washing I have got I can manage by myself, and I cannot afford to keep a great girl like you."
"But you could get some more, I daresay," persisted Lizzie; "and then—"
But here the talk was interrupted by the entrance of her father, and she thought it would be best not to say any more about it at present.
"Where's Jack?" she asked, looking round for her brother, as her father set down his basket of tools which her brother usually carried.
Mrs. Betts looked up from her ironing, too, in a questioning manner. "There's nothing wrong, is there?" she said a little anxiously.
"No, no, Mother, there's nothing wrong but this: that we've only made about a couple of hours to-day between us, and Jack heard of a place that was vacant at the foundry, and so he's gone to see about it."
"But you couldn't do without Jack, Father, could you?" said Lizzie. "I thought you always wanted a boy for a soldering job, and you said the other day he was getting so handy you wouldn't know what to do without him."
"But I shall have to do without him if there's no work to be got," said her father with something like a growl, as he seated himself by the fire.
Mrs. Betts sighed and turned to her ironing again. "Don't you be late, Lizzie," she said; "and try all you can to please your mistress."