She pointed to the chair that stood against the wall, farthest away from her own, and he went past it two or three times before he could reach it and sit down.
"Oh, you bad child!" cried Jenny, in a broken voice. "Come, come, you know what I'm waiting for. If there's any money left, let me take care of it. Put it here," striking the arm of her chair; "all you have left; every cent."
If Jenny had not spoken sharply, even crossly, she could not have made her "child" mind at all.
He fumbled with his pockets, which looked so much like the other holes in his clothes, and at last he stumbled toward her and laid down a few coins.
"Is this all?" Jenny asked. It was very little.
"All; got no more; gentleman's word for it."
Lizzie heard most of this sad scene in her little room overhead, and when she heard the father go groping up the stairs, and fall heavily on his bed in the room next to hers, she hurried down to Jenny with her heart full of pity and love.
"What are you thinking of, Jenny darling?" she said, laying her hand on the bright hair which was now shaken down over the small misshapen shoulders, and covered the whole tiny figure with its soft yellow waves.
"I was thinking," said Jenny, with her small chin in her hands, "what I would do to him if he should turn out to be a drunkard."
"Him" always meant the husband little Jenny firmly believed was some time going to come for her and take her out of all her trouble.