“Please,” said Priscilla.
She wondered a little that her father should have chosen anything so babyish. He brought out all kinds of books and papers to read to her, but they were always grown-up books and papers, and, as I said before, Priscilla very often did not understand them. But to-day it was quite thrilling and fascinating, and Priscilla listened with a face of deepest sympathy and not a smile, as she heard of the poor dying parents, and the woes of the hapless children.
“Oh, how dreadful!” she cried, as, later on, her father read slowly through all the dreadful things that happened to the wicked old man. “And his children let him die in the workhouse? They must have been very bad children. I don’t believe the poor Babes would have done so, if they had been alive. Loveday and I would have taken care——”
“No, I wouldn’t!” broke in Loveday. “It served him right for wanting them to be killed. I wouldn’t have given him anything if he had asked me—oh, ever so many times—not even a hot-water bottle, or an ‘extra-strong’ peppermint like Ellen takes. I’d—I’d have pulled all his teefs out.”
“He wouldn’t have minded, I expect, if he had had a shilling for each,” said Priscilla, forgetting the wrongs of the Babes, and remembering her own. “Father, I had two teeth out a little while ago, and I didn’t have even a penny given me, but Loveday had a shilling for one!”
“You poor little injured mortal,” cried her father, laughing down at her. “I expect, though, you have two nice teeth in place of them by this time; that is something to be grateful for. Many people would be glad of two nice, strong, new teeth.”
“Yes,” said Priscilla, nodding her head gravely. “Miss Potts would. Do you know, father, she had out all hers, and nobody ever gave her anything. Doesn’t it seem unkind? And she hasn’t got any brothers, or sisters either—she has lost them all.”
“Dear, dear, how sad! Have you and Miss Potts been telling your woes to each other, and mingling your tears? ”
“I didn’t cry,” said Priscilla, “but my throat felt funny. It must be dreadful to be an ‘only’!”
“I wish I was,” said a little voice over their shoulders with a deep, deep sigh; “then p’r’aps I should be able to drive sometimes.”