Suddenly all returned to Judy’s memory. She was not herself; she was Betsy.
“I’m coming,” she called out, hardly knowing what she was saying; and then the person on the other side of the wall seemed to be satisfied, for Judy now heard her walking about, clattering fire-irons and pots and pans, evidently employed in tidying the kitchen.
It was still what Judy thought quite dark. She had some idea of calling for a light, but whom to call to she did not know. So, feeling very strange and rather frightened, she got timidly out of bed, and by the little light that came in at the small square window, began to look about her. What a queer little place it was! Not a room really, only a sort of “lean-to” at one side of the kitchen, barely large enough for the narrow, rickety little bedstead, and one old chair that stood beside it, answering several purposes besides its proper one, for on it was placed a cracked basin and jug, and a tiny bit of looking-glass, without a frame, fastened by a piece of string to the only remaining bar. Betsy’s clothes lay in the bed, which was but poorly provided with proper blankets—the sheets were clean—everything in the place was as clean as poverty can be, and indeed Betsy was, and considered herself to be, a very fortunate little girl for having a “room” of her own at all; but to Judy, Judy who had had no training like Betsy’s, Judy who found every crumple in a rose leaf “too bad,” Judy who knew as little of other people’s lives and other people’s troubles as the man in the moon,—you can fancy, my dears, how the room of which little Betsy was so proud looked to Judy! But she had a spirit of her own, ready though she was to grumble. With a little shiver, she began to try to dress herself in the well-mended clothes, so different from her own daintily-trimmed little garments—for washing she felt to be out of the question; it was really too cold, and besides there were no soap, or sponges, or towels to be seen.
“I don’t care,” she said to herself stoutly, as she wriggled first into one garment and then into another. “I don’t care. Any way I shall have no lessons to learn, and I shall not be bothered about keeping my frock clean. But I do wish the fairy had left me my own hair,” she went on regretfully, examining the thick dark locks that hung round her face, and kept tumbling into her eyes, “my hair is much nicer. I don’t believe Betsy ever has hers properly brushed, it is so tuggy. And what brown hands I’ve got, and such crooked nails. I wonder if Betsy’s mother will cut them for me; I wonder if—”
She was interrupted by another summons.
“Betsy, girl, what are you after this morning? I be getting downright cross with you, child. There’s father’ll be back for breakfast directly, and you not helped me by a hand’s turn this blessed morning.” Judy started. She only stopped to fasten the last button of her little dark cotton frock, and calling out, “I’m coming,” opened the rough door of the little bed-room, and found herself in the kitchen. There sat Betsy’s mother, with the baby on her knee, and the baby but one tumbling about at her feet, while she vainly tried to fasten the frock of another little fellow of three, who sturdily refused to stand still.
“You must finish dressing Jock,” she said, on catching sight of Judy; “Jock’s a naughty boy, won’t stand still for mammy to dress him; naughty Jock,” she continued, giving him a little shake as she got up, which sent him howling across the room to Judy. “It’s too bad of you, Betsy, to be so lazy this morning, and me so tired with no sleep, and the little ones all crying; if I tell father he’ll be for giving it thee, lass, to make thee stir about a bit quicker.”
“He’ll give me what?” said Judy, perplexed. “I don’t understand.”
“Hold thy tongue; I’ll have none of that answering back, child,” said Betsy’s mother, tired and out of patience, poor woman, though you must not think she was either harsh or unkind, for she was a very kind, good mother.
“Jock, let me dress you,” said Judy, turning to the little boy, with a vague idea that it would be rather amusing to act nurse to him. Jock came towards her willingly enough, but Judy found the business less easy than she had expected. There was a button missing on his little petticoat, which she did not find out in time to prevent her fastening it all crooked; and when she tried to undo it again, Jock’s patience was exhausted, and he went careering round the kitchen, Judy after him, till the mother in despair caught hold of him, and completed the task.