“Jinny, please, Mr Makin,” announced she; “Jinny Frith. I am John Frith’s little lass—John o’ Joe’s, ye know.”
“I know,” said he; “and what brings ye out in the cowd?”
Here the little face became overcast, and the little lip drooped.
“Mother put me in the wash-house,” said she. “Hoo wouldn’t let me sit at table; hoo put me in the wash-house, and I saw your fire shinin’ through the window, and I thought I’d come and ax ye to let me come in and warm mysel’.”
“Well, an’ so I will,” returned Joe, heartily. “Put ye in the wash-house, did hoo? Well, and that’s a tale. Hoo’s thy stepmother, isn’t hoo? Ah, I mind it now, I mind hearin’ thy feyther ’ad getten a new wife.”
Jinny nodded, “An’ a lot o’ new childer!” she announced. “There’s Tommy, an’ Teddy, an’ Maggie, an’ Pollie, mother brought ’em all wi’ her.”
“Ah, she was a widow, was she?” queried Joe, interested.
“An’ there’s quite a new baby,” continued Jinny, opening her eyes wide, “a new, little, wee baby. That’s my own sister. Hoo’s so bonny, nobbut when hoo cries. Hoo cried jest now along o’ me makin’ a noise, and mother was some mad.”
“Well, but your mother didn’t ought to have put ye in the wash-house for that,” returned Joe. “You didn’t go for to wakken the babby a-purpose. Theer, coom nigh the fire and warm thysel’ a bit. Eh, what little cowd hands. What’s that theer on thy arm?”
Jinny turned her chubby arm and examined the mark reflectively.