"Ah! Don't you be giving up this place just as things are at their worst at home," said her father by way of emphasis to his wife's remark.
Lizzie nodded her head but made no reply. She had begun to make a plan for her future, which her father's words did not in the least alter. She did not like service, she had made up her mind about that now, and she intended to get out of it as soon as she could, and do something that would afford her more liberty than she could have while out in a situation. She had not thought about living at home again until her mother mentioned the washing, but she caught at this as affording a chance for her return.
She bade her mother and father good-night, and went out, but she was in no hurry to go back to her mistress; and so, when she saw a friend at the corner of the street, she was quite eager to enter into conversation, and even to turn back and go with her on her errand.
"Why didn't you meet me on Sunday, as you promised, Emma?" she said in a reproachful tone.
"I couldn't get out. Three of the children were so poorly, and now the baby is quite ill," said the girl.
"And you stayed in for that?"
"Of course I did. How could I leave them?"
"Hadn't they got a mother?" demanded Lizzie.
"What makes you ask such a question as that? You know they have; and she's a kind considerate mistress, too," said Emma.
"Oh yes, very kind," said Lizzie with something like a sneer; "very kind she must be, to keep a poor girl in all day on Sunday—the only day she has a chance of getting out to see her friends."