“I’m no blaming you, mem,” said Mrs. Simpson, with dignity; “but Mistress Chairles should have taken mair thought what she was saying to a decent woman—that has never been used to ill language. If she wanted me to consider her, she should have shown me a good example and considered me.”
“This is what you have made of it in one month,” cried Verna, rushing into the room in which her sister sat. “She’s going to-morrow; she will not stay an hour longer. By coaxing, I got her to consent not to go to-night. This is what your management has come to. Every servant in the house is leaving at this horrid term, as they call it; and you, who don’t know anything of English housekeeping, nor the customs of the place, nor what you ought to do—”
“Oh, Verna; but you know!” cried Matilda, frightened at last by the universal desertion, and taking refuge—as was her wont—in tears.
“I know! you have refused my advice, and laughed at all my remonstrances; you have never listened to a single word I have said since that day when the will was read. I have made up my mind to give up, like the rest.”
“Oh, Verna, don’t! oh don’t forsake me; what shall I do? If I am a little quick-tempered, is that my fault? I am always sorry, and beg your pardon. I will beg your pardon on my knees. Oh, Verna! and the Ayah going, and everybody. I shall get no sleep with baby, and no rest with all these worries. If you go and forsake me, I shall die!”
“You treat me just like one of the servants,” said Verna; “except that I have no wages. I don’t know why I should stay to be bullied and made miserable. I will go too. I can have the Ayah to take care of me, and poor papa will be glad enough to see me again.”
“Oh, Verna, for heaven’s sake! for pity’s sake, for the sake of my poor, poor unfortunate babies! You shall have everything you can think of; everything you would like—”
“Yes, all that is unpleasant!” said Verna; “the kicks, but not the halfpence; the battles with the servants, and everything that is disagreeable—”
“Verna! if I promise never to do anything but what you like, never to say anything you don’t approve of—to do always what you advise me? Oh, Verna! if I say I will be your slave!” cried Matilda, throwing herself upon her sister’s neck.
Then Verna allowed herself to be softened.