“What are you going to do with that wretched stuff, lassie?” said Lindsey; “it has been trampled among the clay and sand, and is unfit for any human use.”
“It will easily clean again, sir,” said she, in a frank and cheerful voice, “and then it will be as good as ever.”
“It looks very ill; I am positive it is for no manner of use.”
“It is certainly, as you say, not of great value, sir; but if it is of any, I may as well lift it as let it lie and rot here.”
“Certainly, there can be no harm in it; only I am sorry to see such a girl at such an employment.”
“It is better doing this than nothing,” was the reply.
The child now rolled himself over to get his face turned towards them; and, fixing his large blue eyes on Lindsey, looked at him with the utmost seriousness. The latter observing a striking likeness between the girl and the child, had no doubt that she was his sister; and, unwilling to drop the conversation, he added, abruptly enough, “Has your mother sent you to gather that stuff?”
“I have neither father nor mother, sir.”
“But one who supplies both their places, I hope. You have a husband, have not you?”