"It's just nice," said Minta, with decision. "It's just what everybody that knows you—what your mamma—would like to see you in. I can't abide them nursin' clothes—nasty things!"
"I declare!" cried Marcella, laughing, but outraged; "I never like myself so well in anything."
Minta was silent, but her small mouth took an obstinate look. What she really felt was that it was absurd for ladies to wear caps and aprons and plain black bonnets, when there was no need for them to do anything of the kind.
"Whatever have you been doing to your cheek?" she exclaimed, suddenly, as Marcella handed her the empty cup to take away.
Marcella explained shortly, and Minta looked more discontented than ever. "A lot of low people as ought to look after themselves," that was how in her inmost mind she generally defined Marcella's patients. She had been often kind and soft to her neighbours at Mellor, but these dirty, crowded Londoners were another matter.
"Where is Daisy?" asked Marcella as Minta was going away with the tea; "she must have come back from school."
"Here I am," said Daisy, with a grin, peeping in through the door of the back kitchen. "Mother, baby's woke up."
"Come here, you monkey," said Marcella; "come and go to sleep with me.
Have you had your tea?"
"Yes, lots," said Daisy, climbing up into Marcella's lap. "Are you going to be asleep a long time?"
"No—only a nap. Oh! Daisy, I'm so tired. Come and cuddlie a bit! If you don't go to sleep you know you can slip away—I shan't wake."