The blow itself was nothing, but what an humiliation for Lily, who, only yesterday, had been told that she had the sweetest nose in the world, cheeks to cover with kisses, eyes, lovely eyes: there wasn’t a girl in a hundred with eyes like that, by Jove! And those lovely eyes were only fit to cry with! And those pretty cheeks Ma had covered with smacks! When she thought of it, she felt inclined to kick over the traces. Did they think her such a kid, then, her Pa and Ma? She’d show Ma if she was fourteen! She’d be off like the others. Lily, at this idea, felt her heart come into her mouth: no, no; she would never dare; she never would. She swore it to herself; took the great oath of the stage: three fingers of her right hand uplifted, the left hand on her lucky charm. And yet, one day, she would marry. She didn’t lack chances, if she wanted them. And a gentleman, too! And her Pa and Ma, to disgust her, of course, pretended that he was married! They must take her for an idiot: how could Trampy be married, considering that he had suggested ... suggested different things to her?...
Lily brooded like this, reviewing the tiny events of which her life was made up. Then a gleam of sunshine came to change her thoughts. She amused herself by breathing on the window-pane, making a circle ... wrote a name with her finger and quickly licked it out with her tongue ... and Lily brooded ... brooded....
But Ma’s voice made her jump:
“What are you doing there, you good-for-nothing? I told you to take your banjo!”
“Yes, Ma,” Lily replied mechanically, with her nose glued to the window.
“Do you hear, Mr. Clifton?” said Ma furiously. “That’s the way she obeys!”
Mrs. Clifton had no doubt whatever that there was a man at the bottom of it ... a flirtation ... something or other. It was useless for Ma to provide for everything, to do her best to oppose Mr. Clifton’s weakness. There was Lily now, taking up an independent attitude. She thought herself pretty, no doubt; some booby must have been stuffing her up, making love to her, to laugh at her later on! If she, Mrs. Clifton, had been a man, she would certainly never look at that ill-mannered baggage; but the London jossers liked that brazen type! And to think that time was passing ... passing!... Oh, Ma would have liked to get hold of the man who invented the law about girls coming of age ... and love ... and marriage! A fierce jealousy seized upon her at the thought. Lily would have bouquets, champagne suppers; Lily would be loved by gentlemen! Tell Lily that she was pretty and, in less than six months the little hussy would think herself a fine lady! And, on that day, Mrs. Clifton would wash her hands of her!
These continued attacks ended by shaking Pa. He didn’t quite know what to say; there was a certain amount of truth in it:
“But,” he persisted, “why should she go? She has everything she wants here?”
But he was more and more annoyed; yes, he admitted, he was wrong to laugh at Mr. Fuchs: you must never set children a bad example. And, from that moment, once his attention had been called to the matter, he daily discovered fresh causes for uneasiness: where the devil did she get that love of dress from? And who sent her that bouquet behind the scenes the other night? Why, Lily wanted to have it handed to her across the footlights, like a singer!