will go up to our sky-parlour, and see poor Lucy's blister, you'll be sorry for her."
"May I go, mamma?"
"No, my dear, those upper rooms are freezing—you will take cold."
"If a sick person can stay in them, it won't hurt me just to go in, mamma!"
"Servants are accustomed to cold rooms, my dear."
"But, mamma," insisted the little girl, who was sagacious, and not accustomed to blind submission in any form, "I am sure the servants are part of their time in our warm rooms."
"You are talking nonsense, Anne."
"There is one thing that is not nonsense, mamma; I know, if I was a servant, I would not live anywhere that I could not have a fire when I was sick." "The child is fit to be a mistress," thought Betsy as she remounted the stairs, "and that's what can be said of few." Betsy had just nicely arranged her dressing to proceed, when the bell again sounded. "There it goes again—ring-a-ding!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, please go, Betsy—it makes my head snap so to hear it when you are staying just for me." Thus entreated, Betsy went.
"Bring me my fur-shoes, Betsy, from the next room." The shoes were brought, and Betsy half way up stairs, when the bell again rung. "I forgot to ask you for my cloak and hat, Betsy, but you should have thought yourself."
"Is there anything else I ought to think of, Mrs. Ardley, before I finish the blister!" she asked, as she handed in the cloak.
