“Oh, my poor girl! my poor girl!”
“Now, mother, dear mother, do not be so foolish,” said Hazel. “Why should I be ashamed to walk with my girls? Are we not living an honourable and independent life, and is it not ten thousand times better than eating the bread of charity?”
“Ah me! ah me!” sighed Mrs Thorne.
“Now, dear, you will dress and come up to the treaty and I will see that you are comfortable.”
“I come? No, no, no!”
“Yes, dear, Mr Burge begs that you will. Come, girls.”
This was called up the stairs to her little sisters, who came running down, dressed in white with blue sashes for the first time since their father’s death.
“What does this mean?” exclaimed Mrs Thorne.
“They are coming with me, dear, each carrying a great bouquet.”
“Never! I forbid it!” cried the poor woman.