Priscilla York was one of Mrs. Thompson’s charity patients—a tall, ungainly, awkward girl, whom, from pity, the good woman had taken into her house, with a desire to teach her a few of the rudiments of housekeeping.
Silly was by no means a promising pupil, her “breaking in” requiring the breaking up of many dishes and the exercise of much patience.
She was abrupt and jerking in her motion, except when she walked; then she seemed afraid of damaging carpets, not having been accustomed to them, and walked on tiptoe, which peculiar footfall caused the heels of her slip-shod shoes to drop with a “clap-clap-clap,” as she crossed the oil-cloth on the floor of the dining-room. Her clothes hung loosely on her, and as she entered the room her arms were stuck stiff at her side, her mouth wide open, and her eyes staring as though she expected to hear some dreadful news.
“Silly,” said Mrs. Thompson, “get the covered basket.”
“Yes, marm,” said Silly, and darted for the door.
“Stop, stop, child; I’ve not finished.”
Silly darted back again.
“I want you to get the covered basket, and take some things over to Mrs. Sleeper.”
“Yes marm;” and the girl darted for the door a second time.
“Silly, stop this instant! What in the world are you thinking of?”