Part 35 (1/2)
”But I've been thinkin', that if she was to mention me to them servants at the doctor's, who is so kind to her, they might know of some little place or 'nother before breakfast for _me_.”
”So they might, Kit; you're a good girl to ha' thought of it.”
”I _am_ honest,” Kittie went on, meditatively, was.h.i.+ng away all the time as she talked, ”and you could say as I'm not given to pickin' things, or takin' what ain't mine, now couldn't you, mother?”
Mrs. Blunt laughed a little, at which Kittie blushed crimson.
”Mother!” she exclaimed.
”Oh, Kit, my dear, I never meant as I couldn't! Bless your heart, I should hope so! But I was laughin' at you havin' thought it all over so grand!”
”Well--but--mother--we would be glad of two s.h.i.+llings more every week, wouldn't we?”
”Of course we should, Kittie.” Mrs. Blunt raised herself, and wrung the soap-suds from her arms. ”Why, yes, Kit, if you _could_, my dear, we shouldn't know ourselves!”
Kittie looked very pleased; and directly her mother had done with her, she ran up-stairs to ask Cherry to put her into communication with the doctor's servants.
She knocked at Meg's door, but could get no answer, and remembering that they were away, she went up to the top to Mrs. Seymour's rooms.
Here on the landing, swaying about in the air that came in freely from the window, were sheets and clothes drying finely; she bobbed her head under them, and as she did so she heard Cherry's clear voice saying--
”I've a'most done, Miss Hobson; will it do then?”
Kittie gained admittance, and found Cherry starching some things on the centre table.
”My! you do know how to do it fine!” she exclaimed; and then she explained her errand.
Cherry took her compliments very calmly, ironing and starching were such every-day things to her; but when she heard what Kittie wanted she looked very serious.
”I can ask 'em and welcome, but I don't know as they would. But they are mighty kind.”
As she spoke she went into the back room to give Miss Hobson a book which she had dropped on the floor, and the invalid called to Kittie to come too.
”Look 'ere,” she said to her, ”_I've_ got a friend as I'll name ye to, if ye like to go and see her. She's the curate's wife, what comes to see me sometimes, and I know as she've got a heap of children and not much to do with. Would ye like to go?”
Kittie said she should, and the day being Sat.u.r.day, and a half-holiday, she ran down to ask her mother's permission to go at once.
Mrs. Blunt said it could do no harm to try, and made Kittie as neat as her very spare wardrobe would allow, and saw her set forth on her errand with a strange feeling that she was going out into the world.
Kittie traversed the two or three streets that brought her to the one where the good man, who spent his life among the poor, had his home.
She rang timidly, and stood for some minutes much concerned that the door was not opened, though she heard feet running up and down, and children's voices many and shrill.
At last another step came nearer and nearer, and the door was opened by a lady, pale and careworn, the curate's wife herself, who led the way without asking any questions into the front room, where a baby was crawling on the hearth-rug, and two or three little ones were standing about watching Kittie with curiosity.
The curate's wife took up the baby, and bade Kittie be seated. She supposed she had come on account of some sick relative, and patiently waited to hear the story. But when Kittie had explained why she came the lady looked surprised and pleased.
”And you think you could help me at odd times?” she asked at last, ”and would not get tired of the children? because, you know, I could not have them slapped even if they were tiresome.”