you would; so am I, because a queen is not at all a happy
person; at least, if she is, it's not because she is a queen and can have
lots of new dresses and things,' remarked Sarah.

'You wouldn't talk like that if you'd ever had to do without them,'
replied the girl.

Sarah turned round and faced the girl. 'Naomi,' she said passionately,
'I'd give anything on earth to be poor and work for my living as you do.'

'Oh miss!' cried Naomi, and 'Oh Sal!' cried another voice, whose owner
had overheard this last remark.

For Mrs Clay had just entered the room, and had forgotten that her
daughter objected strongly to this shortening of her name, which it was
one of her father's aggravating habits to do. 'Oh Sarah,' she cried,
'don't talk such nonsense, and before Naomi, too! Some must be poor an'
some rich. It's always been so, and always will be so, an' it's flyin' in
the face o' Providence not to be thankful that you're not poor; an' with
that lovely gown on, too. 'Ow could you earn enough money to buy a gown
like that, do you suppose? W'y, Naomi doesn't earn enough in a year to
pay for it, I'd have you to know.'

'Then she ought to,' began Sarah; whereupon Mrs Clay cleared her throat
noisily, and said in quite a decided tone for her, 'That'll do, Naomi;
you can leave the room.' And when Naomi had done so, she continued in a
tone of reproof to her daughter,'What are you thinkin' of, wishin' you
earned your own livin' like Naomi? A nice one you'd be if such a dreadful
thing 'appened to you, wi' your 'aughty airs an' scornful ways that no
one would put up wi', let alone that you could never earn a penny if you
tried.'

'I'm not so sure about that. I've a good mind to try, to show you that
you're wrong,' said Sarah meditatively.

Her mother cast a frightened glance at her, and said soothingly, 'There,
my dearie, there's no need to think about it; you're far too pretty even
to do such a thing. You were born for a mansion, an' I 'ope you'll always
'ave one to live in.'

'I don't. I hope I shall one day have to work for my living, and I shall
do it whether it is necessary or not, you'll see,' she declared.

Fortunately both the dinner-gong and an elaborate set of chimes rang out
through the house, and Mrs Clay, with a nervous start, said hurriedly,
'There's the chimes! Well, we must be goin'. Don't you look grand
to-night, Sairey?'

'That's just what I feel, mother--a great deal too grand for a quiet
family dinner; and