“Who says so?”
“Oh, I know! Ten shillings a week, eh? Family life, as that old beast of a Fuchs says!”
“Lily,” said Ma severely, “don’t insult decent people! Have some respect, at any rate.”
But Lily had no respect left for anybody. Pas, Mas, Trampies, Nunkies, one and all, were so many slave-drivers!
“And yet it’s quite true, I’m penniless,” thought Lily to herself. “I, who have earned a fortune for you!” she grumbled under her breath, stifling a sob.
“You’re mad, my poor Lily! All that we have will be yours some day. You never think of the future; you spend your last penny.”
“I earn and I spend!”
“And suppose you fell ill, my poor Lily?”
“Hospitals aren’t made for dogs! Besides, I have friends. And then, at least, I shall have had some fun for my money, while you, if you died to-morrow, Pa would marry another woman, who would spend all your savings, all the money I have earned for you.”
“Lily,” cried Mrs. Clifton, “you’re insulting your father!”