“I don’t want any.”
“But you know, Madame, you’ll be ill if you don’t eat; fasting never agrees with you, no more than over-eating.”
Kathleen came in at that moment bearing a tempting little repast upon a silver waiter, which she set down before her mistress.
The Madame at first refused to eat, but presently, yielding to the combined entreaties and expostulations of the two, made a very tolerable attempt. Kathleen was retained to wait upon her, and Mary was directed to assist Floy until the gown should be completed.
“You’re looking very tired,” the latter remarked, as Mary resumed her seat by her side.
“Not a bit more’n you do, miss,” said the girl, with a compassionate glance at Floy’s pale cheeks and heavy eyes. “Dear me! don’t you think riches harden the heart? There’s the Madame has a dozen elegant silk dresses, good as new, if she has one, yet we must both wear ourselves out to get this done for to-morrow, though there won’t be a soul besides ourselves here to look at it, unless the lawyer or doctor should happen to call, which ain’t in the least likely, seein’ it’s a holiday.”
“Perhaps, then, we may consider ourselves blest in being poor,” Floy returned cheerfully; “and which of us would exchange our health for the poor Madame’s wealth?”
“Not I, I’m sure,” said Mary, shaking her head; “she’s worth her thousands, and has everything that money can buy, but she has never an hour’s ease or happiness.”
Both were too weary, Floy too heartsore, to be in a talkative mood; so they worked on in silence till startled from it by a sudden loud peal from the door-bell.
“Who can that be?” exclaimed Mary, laying down her work and glancing at the clock on the mantel; “half-past nine, and we never have any callers of evenings. There,” returning to her work at the sound of the opening and shutting of a door, followed by footsteps hastily descending the stairs, “Katty’s gone to answer it.”