Christie shook her head; but Mrs Greenly took upon herself in reply.
“Dear, no! It’s only lately that her father died. There is a large family of them. The oldest sister is trying to keep the little ones together, Mrs McIntyre tells me; and two of the sisters have come to the city to take places. The elder one is at Mrs Vinton’s, in Beaver Hall.”
Remembering the consequences of such a communication on a former occasion, Christie trembled; but she was soon relieved.
“Poor child!” said the lady. “So you have never been from home before?”
“No, ma’am,” said Christie, eagerly. “But I was very glad to come. I was sorry to leave them all; but I wished to do my part. I will do my best for you and the children.”
“You needn’t fear that the children will learn anything wrong from her, ma’am,” she heard Mrs Greenly say. “She has been well brought up.”
But she heard no more; for the pattering of little feet on the stairs told of the approach of children. The door opened, and a little girl, six or seven years old, entered, followed by two little boys, who were younger. The girl went directly to her mother, and began stroking the baby’s face. The boys, looking defiantly at Mrs Greenly, as though to assure her that they would not submit to be sent away, took their stand behind their mother’s chair. The mother’s hand was gently laid on the little girl’s head.
“Where is Harry?” she asked.
“He’s asleep in Nelly’s clothes-basket. She said we were not to make a noise to wake him, so we came up here. Bridget has gone away.”
“Yes, I know. And has Letty been trying to amuse her brothers, to help mother?”