But Betty, unused to caresses, slipped away.
"You always are away," she said. "I'll be as good as I want to. I wonder how good you'd be if suddenly you had to stay at home and wash up and dust."
The picture was quite unenticing to Dot. Wash up and dust and stay at home! She moved slowly to the door, feeling very sorry for Betty.
"I must go now," she said. "All this is just a finish up to my school time. Afterwards I shall have to stay at home and be eldest daughter while you have your time. Mother says you may come to the gate and see me off if you like."
But she was genuinely sorry for Betty all the way down the hall to the front door, and her heart gave her an unpleasant pang when Betty sprang after her and thrust a shilling into her hand.
"It's my own," whispered Betty; "take it; it will buy something; I earned it. Don't be afraid; I'll earn plenty more some day," and she ran away down the path to the gate.
"Dear little Betty," said Dot, and slipped the shilling into her purse. "I'll buy something for her with it."
They all came down to the gate to see the little traveller off.
Mr. Bruce wore his best suit—well brushed—because he was going to accompany his eldest daughter as far as Redfern station. As the others were saying good-bye to her, he occupied himself by counting his money, to make sure he had enough for a first-class return ticket for her, and the three half-sovereigns he had decided to slip into her purse before they reached the station.
Mrs. Bruce, slight and small almost as Dot herself, put Baby down on the brown-green grass at the gate, while she put a few quite unnecessary finishing touches to her eldest daughter.