Part 5 (1/2)
”I believe I'll comb my hair out sleek this morning,” she said to herself as she stood brus.h.i.+ng back the heavy tangled ma.s.s. ”I look awful dirty, but then we always look dirty.”
A heavy stroke on the shoulder startled her, as the voice of old Meg sounded close in her ear, saying:
”Here's a whole basket full of work; now mind and don't come back till you sell every one of 'em, do ye hear?”
”Yes.”
”Don't bring one back; if you do Crisp'll settle ye.”
The last sentence decided the matter.
”No,” Zula answered, ”I won't bring any back.”
CHAPTER IV.
THE ESCAPE.
She took the basket and started for the city. She was very lucky for she sold more than she expected. The afternoon had nearly pa.s.sed before her stock was gone. She wandered down High street, giving her basket to a little Irish beggar girl. She had not the slightest idea of where she should go, but she had made up her mind never to go back to Crisp and his mother, and if she were compelled to lie in the street she would never go back to live the life she had led.
”Out of the road, you little beggar,” called out a finely dressed boy, who was riding a bicycle, at the same time striking the wheels against Zula's limbs and tearing an ugly rent in the flesh.
She turned quickly and catching the wheel held it as she looked straight into the boy's face.
”What are you doing? You saucy thing,” he said, returning her searching glance.
”I am trying to see how you look,” she answered, ”and I won't never forget you.”
”I don't ask you to; get out of my way or I'll knock you down.”
”You ain't a bit nice, if you do live in the city,” Zula said, and letting go the wheel she stepped aside and stooping examined the smarting limb, from which the blood was flowing over her foot.
”Did he hurt you much, little girl?” asked a voice beside her.
Zula looked up, and beheld a lady who was about to enter the gate near where she stood. Her face was round and fair and her black silk dress and mantle lent a striking charm to the fair face and silvery hair.
”Did he hurt you?” she asked again. ”Oh, dear, yes; see the blood.”
Zula's heart was deeply touched. Kind words were so seldom spoken to her, that the lady's words caused the tears to start.
”Don't cry; it's too bad, I know, but run home and get your mama to do it up for you.”
”I hain't got any mama nor any home,” Zula said. ”I hain't got anybody to do it up for me.”
”Oh, that is too bad; well, come into my house and I will have Mary fix it up for you.”
She led Zula to the kitchen, where Mary, the servant girl, was busy finis.h.i.+ng up the supper work.
”Well, now, Mrs. Platts, who have you got there?” Mary asked, in surprise.