"
"Make money out of _me_, good gracious Hannah, how?"
"The fellow offered her fifty guineas if she'd hand you over to him. He
swore he'd make a lady of you."
"What! Marry me?"
"Marry you! Tilly vally, no such thing. He'd spend money on you--fine
dresses, trinkets, fallals and all that, but a wedding ring, the
parson--not a bit of it. An' when he tired of you he'd fling you away
like an old glove."
"Would he?" cried Lavinia indignantly. "Then he won't."
"No, but it means a tussle with your mother. What a tantrum she went in
to be sure when she found you was gone. She fell upon poor me an' called
me all the foul names she could lay her tongue to. Look at these."
Hannah pushed back her cap and her hair and showed four angry red
streaks down the side of her face. Mrs. Fenton had long nails and knew
how to use them.
Lavinia was horrified. Throwing her arms round the honest creature's
neck she kissed her again and again. Then she exclaimed despairingly:--
"What am I do to do to-night? I dursn't stay here."
"I'm not so sure about that. I'm thinking it can be managed. Your
mother's gone to Marybone Gardens with Dawson, the Romford cattle
dealer. They won't be home till latish an' I'll go bail as full o'
strong waters as they can carry. It's not market day to-morrow and your
mother'll lie in bed till noon. You can share my bed an' I'll let 'ee
out long afore the mistress wakes.
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