“I’m not much use, am I?”
“Frankly, you are not. You spilt mother’s beef tea yesterday, and dropped the ink over that new fancy work which she takes so much pleasure in amusing herself with; and you screamed out and startled her frightfully when you were in the garden and thought you were stung by a wasp when you weren’t. I don’t see what particular use you are to anybody.”
“Then, if that is the case,” said Nesta, “why can’t I go away and enjoy myself? I can’t help being alive, you know. I must be somewhere in the world, and if I’m such a bother here, why shouldn’t I go off with old Floss and have a good time? Floss doesn’t think me a worry. Floss and I could have a good time.”
“By what possible right ought you to have a good time? There’s Molly, the eldest of us, and there’s me, and what chance have we of going into the country or to the seaside, or having any fun? There’s nobody at all in this hateful Newcastle, or in its suburbs, in the summer. There’s nothing but the horrible coal-dust in the air, and the whole place is choking at times.”
“But really not out where we live,” said Nesta, who must be honest at any cost.
“Well, anyhow, we’re not in the most charming part of the country, and that you know quite well. But if you ask me, I should say that you had best give up the idea of going. You can do as you please, of course.”
“Yes, I can do what I please; but I can’t see, even if mother is ill, why four girls should be kept to wait on her.”
“There won’t be four. Marcia is going to the St. Justs’ next week. She’s going away for a whole month. The doctor has ordered it. He says she isn’t well.”
“Just because she looks pale. You know that she is quite well; she is the strongest of us all.”
“I don’t know anything about that—she is going; that’s all. She has the doctor’s orders and it is arranged.”