“Adone, do, mother!” cried Harry. “You’re the one fur the miserables. Reckon Ivy’s only out enjoying herself.”
“I’d go myself,” sobbed Mrs. Beatup, “but my oald legs feel that swummy. Oh, I can see her floating, all swelled up!”
During this scene Nell had slipped out of the room. She was now back in the doorway, saying icily—
“You needn’t worry. Ivy’s taken all her clothes with her.”
The family took a little time to get the drift of her words.
“All her clothes!” murmured Mrs. Beatup faintly.
“Yes—in the pilgrim-basket, so you may be sure she hasn’t drowned herself.”
“She’s gone away wud that dirty soldier!” cried Mus’ Beatup. “That justabout proves it.”
“It doan’t,” said his wife. “Ivy’s an honest girl.”