"I'll teach you!" pulling, as she spoke, the floorcloth
out of the girl's hand. "Such airs and graces! Why, sooner or later,
milady, you've got to go through it yourself."
"ME . . .? Catch me!" said Ellen, with enormous emphasis. "D'yer mean to
say that's 'ow . . . 'ow the children always come?"
"Of course it is, you mincing Nanny-hen!--every blessed child that
walks. And I just 'ope," said Mrs. Beamish, as she marched off herself
with brush and scrubber: "I 'ope, now you know it, you'll 'ave a little
more love and gratitoode for your own mother than ever you 'ad before."
"Oh lor!" said the girl. "Oh, lor!" And plumping down on the
chopping-block she snatched her apron to her face and began to cry.
Chapter VIII
Two months passed before Mahony could help Polly and Mrs. Beamish into
the coach bound for Geelong.
It had been touch and go with Polly; and for weeks her condition had
kept him anxious. With the inset of the second month, however, she
seemed fairly to turn the corner, and from then on made a steady
recovery, thanks to her youth and an unimpaired vitality.
He had hurried the little cradle out of sight. But Polly was quick to
miss it, and quite approved of its having been given to a needy
expectant mother near by. Altogether she bore the thwarting of her hopes
bravely.
"Poor little baby, I should have been very fond of it," was all she
said, when she was well enough to fold and pack away the tiny garments
at which she had stitched with such pleasure.
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