"Ay, you've got a bad cold, that's what it is. I'll make you some
gruel presently, and put some rum in it. You don't take care of
yourself: I told you how it 'ud be when you came in with those
wringin' things on, on Thursday night."
"They've found out about me at the school," gasped Lotty, with a
despairing look, "and Ida's got sent away."
"She has? Well, never mind, you can find another, I suppose. I can't
see myself what she wants with so much schoolin', but I suppose you
know best about your own affairs."
"Oh, I feel that bad! If I get over this, I'll give it up--God help
me, I will! I'll get my living honest, if there's any way. I never
felt so bad as I do now."
"Pooh!" exclaimed the woman. "Wait a bit till you get rid of your
sore throat, and you'll think different. Poorly people gets all
sorts o' fancies. Keep a bit quiet now, and don't put yourself out
so."
"What are we to do? I've only got a few shillings--"
"Well, you'll have money again some time, I suppose. You don't
suppose I'll turn you out in the streets? Write to Fred on Monday,
and he'll send you something."
They talked till Lotty exhausted herself again, then Ida was allowed
to re-enter the room.
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