"Where did you get the money? It costs something to cross the ocean," Miss Betsey asked, a little sharply, and Bessie replied: "It did not cost me much, for I came out as a steerage passenger. I had just enough for that and my ticket here."
"You came in the steerage?" and in her surprise Miss Betsey arose from her chair and walked once or twice across the floor, while Bessie looked at her wistfully, wondering if she, too, were ashamed like Neil.
But shame had no part in Miss Betsey's feelings, which were stirred by a far different emotion. Resuming her seat after a moment, she said: "And you have come here to work--to earn money? What can you do?"
"I thought I might teach French, perhaps; and German, I am a pretty good scholar in both," Bessie replied, and her aunt rejoined: "French and German! Fiddlesticks! There are more fools teaching those languages now than there are idiots to learn them. Why, my washerwoman's daughter is teaching French at twenty-five cents a lesson, though she can no more speak it than a jackdaw. French, indeed! You must try something else, or you will never earn that two hundred and fifty-five pounds."
This was not very encouraging, and Bessie felt the color dyeing her face, and her heart sinking, as she said: "I might sew. I am handy with my needle, I have made all my own dresses, and Dorothy's, too."
"Yes, you might sew, and twist your spine all out of shape, and get the liver complaint," Miss Betsey interposed; and then, poor Bessie, fearing that everything was slipping from her, said, with a choking sob: "I might be a housemaid to some one. Surely there are such situations to be had, and I would try so hard to please, and even work for less than other girls of more experience. Oh, Aunt Betsey, you must know of some place for me! You will help me to find one! You do not know how greatly I desire it, or how poor I am. These are the only boots I have," and she put out a much worn boot, which had been blacked until the leather was nearly cracked apart. "And this my only decent dress, except a dark calico. But I do not care so much for that. It is not clothes I want. It is to pay that money to Lady Jane."
The tears were falling like rain from Bessie's eyes, and starting again from her chair Miss McPherson went to an open window and shut it as if she were cold; then returning to her seat, she said, abruptly: "I thought you were engaged to Neil--he wrote me to that effect."