It flashed through her mind that the very life-blood of such girls was
being sacrificed for her own selfish pleasure. If she had not hurried
madame so, there would have been no night-work for this poor child, no
fagged-out nerves for her the next day.
Suddenly Miss Balfour crossed the room and, to her cousin's
astonishment, caught Cicely's cold hands in hers.
"Look up here, you poor little thing," she said, kindly. "Now don't
cry another tear, or grieve another bit about this. It's no matter at
all. I'll just get some new stuff to replace the front of the skirt,
and madame can make it over next week for me and send it on East after
me. I'll pay for it myself, of course, for I'll be very glad to have
the silk that must be ripped out. Mamma is making me a silk quilt, and
the rosebuds will work in beautifully. I shall have it put in,
blood-spots and all, to remind me that my selfish pleasure may often
prove a cruel thorn to somebody else. I don't want to go through the
world leaving scratches behind me."
"Why, Rhoda!" gasped Miss Shelby; but with a proud lifting of her
head, Miss Balfour went on:
"I realise it is my own fault in rushing you with the work, madame,
and the consequences of my own unreasonableness are not to be laid at
this girl's door. Do you understand, madame? Not a cent is to come out
of her wages, and you are to keep her and be good to her, if you want
my good-will.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26