There was complete silence for quite a long time. At last—
"You talk as if you were a boy," said Gwen. "What can girls do?"
"Everybody can do what they must do," quietly replied Millie. "I've got to earn my living, and so have you, I suppose."
"Earn our living! Mother would have a fit!" cried Maddie.
"But Uncle Edmund said in his letter that he was poor," said Millie, puzzled. "What should you do if he died?"
"Get married, if we could," laughed Theo. "Willie and Georgie say we're such frights, we never shall. But we think Gwen is good-looking, and you see she's got a lover already; and she says when she's married she'll see after all of us—take us out of this hateful old Dale, and go to live at Brighton or London or some place where we could make friends. Nobody will make friends here, because mother's such an old stick-in-the-mud—"
The filial sentiment died away, for there was the sound of a soft thud.
"The weight, girls! Mother!" whispered Bee; and in a moment, with a dexterity born of long practice, the whole flock of lounging girls had arisen, slipped into place, and were busily stitching when Mrs. Cooper, with her smile, her long neck, and her earrings, peeped archly round the door.
"Making friends?" said she, beaming.
"Yes, Mrs. Cooper," said Tommy, looking up.