"I am afraid not."
Rotha looked on at the busy needle for a few minutes, and then burst out again.
"I think things are queer! That you should be working so, and other people have nothing to do."
"Hush, Rotha. Nobody in this world has nothing to do."
"Nothing they need do, then. You are better than they are."
"You speak foolishly. God gives everybody something to do, and his hands full; and the work that God gives we need to do, Rotha. He has given me this; and as long as he gives me his love with it, I think it is good. He has given you your work too; and complaining is not a part of it. I hope to send you to school, as soon as ever I can."
Before Rotha had got up her ammunition for another attack, there was a tap at the door, and Mrs. Marble came in. She always seemed to bring life with her.
"What do you get for that?" she asked, after she had chatted awhile, watching her lodger. Mrs. Carpenter was making buttonholes.
"A shilling a dozen."
Mrs. Marble inspected the work.