With such plants as these Mrs. Fubsby was not to be 'took in,' and so preferred paper flowers.
Ellinor contrived to finish one of her best landscapes—a view on the May—and 'room' was given it by a kind of picture-dealer close by, but it remained in his window unsold, and apparently unnoticed by all—save the flies, who did not improve it.
Mary's confidence at times began to desert her when she felt how hard it would be for them, all unaided as they were, to win their daily bread and add to the little pittance they had, among that vast human tide of busy, cold, careless, and apparently unsympathising people who poured past her in the streets.
Her sweet face began to look anxious, sorrowful, and pale under the ripples of golden brown hair that fell softly over her broad low forehead; and ere long the two sisters began to want many things to which they had been accustomed.
'What is to be the end of it all?' Mary would think, as she came slowly back to tell Ellinor of some fresh disappointment, or that her picture was still unsold. Mary was growing paler, Ellinor could see—yes, she looked older; her figure seemed less round, though graceful as ever. Her street dress was beginning to look poor and even shabby. Oh, how sad and horrible it was!
Mrs. Fubsby pitied the girls for their want of success, while she admired their perseverance. A well-meaning woman, she had some suggestions to 'hoffer,' as she said, which made Mary's blood run cold.
Among these were two—that, as she was 'so 'andsome,' she might get a situation in the mantle department of some great shop, or as a species of lay-figure to show off the goods, and who knew but one of the 'walkers' might take a fancy to her? or to work a sewing-machine in the window in the gaze of all those men and boys who would be certain to crowd thereat, and flatten their noses against the glass while critically surveying her. Another suggestion was to sell poor Jack, whom Joe Fubsby said was well worth 'a ten pun' note;' but Mary would rather have starved than parted with her dog.
With a burning cheek and a beating heart, and feeling certain that she would be viewed with suspicion, and perhaps insulted, she ventured into a shop in the Edgware Road, where an 'honest' dealer gave her less than the third of the value for Sir Redmond's chain and locket. This sum helped them on a little; but again finances began to fall, and, clasping her slim white hands, Mary began to think it was useless attempting to struggle any more.