“No money? But there was plenty in the drawer last night.”
“Look for yourself, Jill.”
Jill paused in her occupation of cutting thick bread and butter. The boys had already eaten their breakfasts, and gone away.
She gave a quick glance round the cosy little room. The sun shone in at the window. The influence of the pleasant summer day was reflected all over Jill’s young face.
“There’s time enough,” she said, with a slow, satisfied smile. “You eat your breakfast, mother, and I’ll fetch the flowers arter.”
“But you can’t, when there ain’t no money. I tell yer somebody crep’ in yere yesterday, most like when I wor—when I wor—”
“Never mind about that, mother. You had the pain bad, and you were drowsy, and you left the door on the latch. That were how the thief got in, worn’t it, mother?”
“Ef you like to have it so, child. Seems to me—”
“Yes, I like to have it that way,” repeated Jill. “You were drowsy, and some one come in and took the money out of the drawer. Give me yer cup, mother, and I’ll fill it again.”
Mrs Robinson pushed her cup away from her, and stood up.