She looked incredulous.
"Never!" I repeated.
She sat up on her heels and began to collect the broken pieces and pick up the bread and butter.
"And were I ever to indulge—I mean saddle myself with the retinue of servants you mention—there would always be room for you, Amelia."
"Thank you, mum," she sobbed, while eating a piece of sandy cake in complete unconsciousness.
"You could be mistress of the robes," said Dimbie cheeringly.
Her sniffs became less frequent.
"You could be lady's maid," I said. "But no pockets, Amelia. You understand."
She gave a watery smile.
"I could find the tortis and brush your hair all day long, mum."