"I would, only father has had a fight with the gas company and they've cut it off. Now let's open the parcels; put the candles nearer."
Mr Bevan's parcels contained a box of sardines, a paysandu ox tongue, and a basket of peaches; Fanny's, the before-mentioned prayer-book, envelopes, and in the tissue-paper parcel a light shawl or fichu of fleecy silk dyed blue.
She cast her hat off, and throwing the fichu round her neck, hopped upon a chair, candle in hand, and glanced at herself in a great mirror on the opposite wall.
"It makes me look beautiful!" she cried. "And I have half a mind to keep it for myself."
"Why—for whom did you buy it, then?"
"For James' wife, Mrs Regan."
"Oh!"
"She is ill, you know, and I am going to see her again to-morrow. I hate going to see sick people, but father says whenever we see a lame dog we should put our shoulders to the wheel and help him over the stile, and she's a lame dog, if ever there was one. That's right, Susannah, put the candles here, and give me the can opener; I love opening tins, and there is a little prayer-book I got for you when I was out."
"Thank you, miss," said Susannah in a muffled voice, putting the little prayer-book under her apron with one hand, and snuffing a candle with the finger and thumb of the other. "Can I get you anything more, miss?"