“Why don’t she work for it, then?”
“Oh, she do, Bill; she’s the most hard-working woman in the place.”
Mr William Forth Burge’s hand went into his pocket, and he brought out five pounds, to place them in his sister’s hand.
“I wouldn’t give it her all at once, dear,” he said; “but a pound at a time like. It makes it do more good.”
Little Miss Burge had the tears in her eyes as she gave her brother a sounding smack on either cheek.
“Now, don’t you pretend again, Bill, that you ain’t happy here,” she said, “for ain’t it nice to be able to do a bit of good like this now and then?”
“Of course it is,” he replied, “but they only jumps on you afterwards. Here we’re going to do this, and p’r’aps save that child’s life; and as soon as she gets well the first thing she’ll do will be to make faces at your back in the school, as I’ve seen her do on Sundays over and over again.”
“Oh, I don’t mind, Bill.”
“But you’re not going to the house where that gal’s ill?”
“Oh no, Bill dear; I won’t go down. Don’t you be afraid about that. And look here; you make a big fight of it, and beat ’em about Miss Thorne.”