I wrote about a fortnight
ago to a lady who came once to see us at home. She was a Miss
Trenchard then. She said that if ever I wanted any help I was to
write to her. So I have written--to ask her whether she can find me
any work to do, and she has asked me to go and see her."
"Work," said Aunt Elizabeth. "But you won't go away while your
aunt's so ill."
Wouldn't she? Maggie didn't know so much about that.
"I want to be independent," said Maggie, trying to fix Aunt
Elizabeth's eyes. "It isn't fair that I should be a burden to you."
"You're no burden, dear." Aunt Elizabeth looked uneasily round the
room. "Your aunt depends on you."
"Depends on me for what?"
"For everything."
"Then she oughtn't to, Aunt Elizabeth, I've said it again and again.
I'm not fit for any one to depend on. I'm forgetful and careless and
untidy. You know I am. And I'm different from every one here. I'm
very grateful to Aunt Anne, but I'm not good enough for her to
depend on."
Aunt Elizabeth blinked nervously.
"She's got very little. You mustn't take away all she has."
"I'm not all she has," answered Maggie, knowing that she was
becoming excited and cross.
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