"You don't mind what you spend on yourself," snapped Mme. Lacombe.
"You know well that I have worn nothing but this faded print dress all winter," rejoined Mariette, with touching resignation. "I economize as much as I can—and we owe two quarters of rent."
"You might as well say right now that I am a burden to you. These are the thanks I get for taking you out of the streets and paying for your apprenticeship!—you ungrateful, heartless child!"
"No, no, I am not ungrateful, godmother!" protested Mariette, restraining her tears with difficulty. "And, if you suffered less, you would not be so unjust to me—but do take something, or else you will be ill."
"I know it, I feel a terrible gnawing at my stomach."
"Please have some milk, godmother," entreated the girl.
"Go to the devil with your milk!" she snapped angrily.
"Shall I get you some fresh eggs?"
"No!"
"Will you have some rice?"