"Oh, Mrs. Ardley! won't Miss Anne mind the baby just while I run home and see how they all are, and tell Jemmie why I can't come?"
"No, Miss Anne cannot; she is just going to her dancing lesson."
Lucy was silent for a moment. It seemed impossible to her to give up, and she ventured upon rather a daring request. "Mrs. Ardley," she asked, tremulously, "won't you be so good as to take care of the baby yourself—I'll be as quick as possible."
"Lucy, you are going a little too far, Everybody that lives with me, old and young, presumes upon my indulgence. You know, child, I am just dressing to pay visits."
"Oh, Mrs. Ardley, if you could once see our poor Jemmie, you would not wonder that I could ask for dancing or visits to be given up."
"It may be, child; but still you should recollect what is proper and what is not. I really would not disappoint you if I could well help it."
Lucy turned away to hide the tears she could not repress. The younger children, who had been listeners and spectators, now, from the kind instincts of their nature, pressed round their mother to urge Lucy's suit. Mrs. Ardley, probably from an uncomfortable consciousness of the wrong she was inflicting, was unjust, and much less good-humoured than usual. "Be quiet, children," she said, "I must be more firm with the whole of you. Don't tease me any more about this business of going home, Lucy—it's always inconvenient in the week to spare you. To-morrow Sophy and Mary Minturn leave me, and my new women are coming;
