“Who said I wasn’t pleased?” said Judy.
“You said as something was a deal too bad,” replied the child.
“Well, so it was,—it must have been, I mean,—or else I wouldn’t have said so,” answered Judy, who, to tell the truth, had by this time quite forgotten what particular trouble had been the cause of her last grumble. “How do you mean that I have everything so nice?”
“Your things, miss—your jacket and your frock, and all them things. And you live in such a fine house, and has servants to do for you and all. O my! wouldn’t I change with you. Nothing would never be too bad for me if I was you, miss.”
“I daresay you think so,” said Judy importantly, “but that just shows that you don’t know better. I can tell you I have a great, great many troubles and things to bear that you have no idea of. Indeed, I daresay you are far happier than I. You are not bothered about keeping your frocks clean, and not getting your feet wet, and all those horrible things. And about lessons—I daresay you have no trouble at all about lessons. You don’t go to school, do you?”
“Not now, miss. It’s more than six months since I’ve been. Mother’s wanted me so badly to mind baby. Father did say as perhaps I should go again for a bit come Christmas,” answered the little girl, who was growing quite at ease with Judy.
“And do you like going?” said Judy.
“Pretty well, but it’s a long walk—winter time ’specially,” said the child; “not but what most things is hard then to them as lives in places like ours. ’Tisn’t like for you, miss, with lots of fires, and no need for to go out if it’s cold or wet.”
“Indeed I have to go out very often—indeed, always almost when I don’t want,” retorted Judy. “Not that I should mind the walk, to school. I should like it; it would be far nicer than horrid lessons at home, cooped up in the same room all the time, with no change. You don’t understand a bit; I am quite sure you haven’t as many troubles as I.” The little girl smiled, but hardly seemed convinced. “Seems to me, miss, as if you couldn’t hardly know, unless you tried, what things is like in places like ours,” she said.
But before Judy could reply, a voice from inside the cottage called out, “Betsy my girl, what are you about so long? Father’ll be in directly, and there’s the tea to see to.”