“How is he?” cried Louise, paying no heed to Liza’s paradoxical declaration.
“No better, and no worse, miss; but it wasn’t about that. I leaves you this day month, miss; and as much sooner as you can suit yourself.”
“Very well, Liza. That will do.”
“No, miss!” cried the girl excitedly, “it won’t do. ’Cusing people o’ being thiefs when it was nothing but a bit of a bundle o’ old rags and things I saved, as might ha’ been burnt, and they bought ’em of me, and I bought the ribbons o’ them.”
“I do not wish to hear any more about that transaction, Liza; but I am glad to hear you can explain it away. You should have been frank at first.”
“So ought other people, miss, if you’ll excuse me; and not go taking away a poor servant’s character by alluding to money left on no chimley-pieces as I never took.”
“Liza!”
“Yes, miss; I know, and thinking o’ sending for the police.”
“I had too much feeling for you, Liza, and for your future character. I did not even send you away.”
“I should think not indeed, miss. Mother and me’s as honest as the day; and if you want police, send for ’em for them as has been picking and stealing.”