"Don't, pray, Matty," as Matty was rising from her chair. "Pray, don't. I'll go and play; but indeed, indeed, it hurts me very much to move to-day."
"Nonsense! Make her get up, Matty, You must mind me, Matty; you came here to mind me; so do as you are bid, you ugly thing."
Matty indeed merited the title of ugly. She was rather tall, but of a most ungainly figure, with long bony limbs, ill put together. It was difficult to say what the features of her face might have been: they were so crumpled, and scarred, and seamed. Not a feature had been left uninjured, except her eyes: and they were remarkable both for intelligence and softness.
She put down her work and went up to Clementina, saying, "What ails you, Miss? I hope it isn't true that you feign sickness not to play with your sister?"
The poor girl looked up, and her eyes were filled with tears. "Feign! I wish I did!"
"Then your hip does hurt you?"
"To be sure it does. So badly! At night, sometimes, when I'm in bed—so, so badly."
"And do you know that, Miss Ella?"
"Know it! Why, who does not know it? She's always talking of it; but, for my part, I don't believe it's half so bad as she pretends."
"I don't pretend, Ella; you are always saying that. How cruel you are to set Nurse against me, by always saying I pretend."