You know nothing about India. You know nothing about anything!
She was in such a rage and felt so helpless before the girl s simple
stare, and somehow she suddenly felt so horribly lonely and far away
from everything she understood and which understood her, that she threw
herself face downward on the pillows and burst into passionate sobbing.
She sobbed so unrestrainedly that good-natured Yorkshire Martha was a
little frightened and quite sorry for her. She went to the bed and bent
over her.
Eh! you mustn t cry like that there! she begged. You mustn t for
sure. I didn t know you d be vexed. I don t know anythin about
anythin just like you said. I beg your pardon, Miss. Do stop cryin .
There was something comforting and really friendly in her queer
Yorkshire speech and sturdy way which had a good effect on Mary. She
gradually ceased crying and became quiet. Martha looked relieved.
It s time for thee to get up now, she said. Mrs. Medlock said I was
to carry tha breakfast an tea an dinner into th room next to this.
It s been made into a nursery for thee. I ll help thee on with thy
clothes if tha ll get out o bed. If th buttons are at th back tha
cannot button them up tha self.
When Mary at last decided to get up, the clothes Martha took from the
wardrobe were not the ones she had worn when she arrived the night
before with Mrs. Medlock.
Those are not mine, she said. Mine are black.
She looked the thick white wool coat and dress over, and added with
cool approval:
Those are nicer than mine.
These are th ones tha must put on, Martha answered. Mr. Craven
ordered Mrs. Medlock to get em in London. He said I won t have a
child dressed in black wanderin about like a lost soul, he said.
It d make the place sadder than it is. Put color on her. Mother she
said she knew what he meant. Mother always knows what a body means. She
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