The Gift of the Sailor: The String of Pearls & Sweeney Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street — page 109: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“They told me so.” “T was struck down.” “Struck, Miss Mary! Who could strike you? And what did you do to deserve such a severe chastisement? Who did it?” “T spoke to my mother about the wet sheets.” “Ah! what a mercy you were not killed! If you had slept in them, your life would not have been worth a farthing. * You would have caught cold, and you would have died of inflammation, I am sure of it. If anybody wants to commit murder without being found out, they have only to put them into damp sheets.” “So I thought, and I took them out.” “You did quite right—quite right.” “What have you heard about them?” said I. “Oh! I only went into the room in which you sleep, and I at once found how damp they were, and how dangerous it was—and I was going to tell your mamma, when I met her, and she told me to hold my tongue, but to go down and take you away, as you had fallen down in a fit, and she could not bear to see you lying there.” “And she didn’t do anything for me?” “Oh, no, not as I know of, because you were lying on the floor bleeding. I picked you up, and brought you here.” “And has she not inquired after me since?” “Not once.” “And don’t know whether I am yet sensible or not?” “She does not yet know that.” “Well,” I replied, “I think they don’t care much for me, I think not at all, but the time may come when they will act differently.” “No, miss, they think, or affect to think, that you have injured them; but that cannot be, because you could not be cunning enough to dispose your aunt to leave you all, and so deprive them of what they think they are entitled to.” “T never could have believed half so much.” “Such, however, is the case.” “What can I do?” “Nothing, my dear, but lie still till you get better, and don’t say any more; but sleep, if you can sleep, will do you more good than anything else now for an hour or so, so lie down and sleep.” ® ee @o The old woman left the room, and I endeavoured to compose myself to sleep; but could not do so for some time, my mind being too actively engaged in considering what I had better do, and I determined upon a course of conduct by which I thought to escape much of my present persecution. It was some days, however, before I could put it in practice, and one day I found my father and mother together, and I said to her— “Mother, why do you not send me to school?” “You—send you to school! did you mean you, miss?” “Yes, I meant myself, because other people go to school to learn something, but I have not been sent at all.” “Are you not contented?” “T am not,” I answered, “because other people learn something; but at the same time, I should be more out of your way, since | am more trouble to you, as you complain of me; it would not cost more than living at home.” “What is the matter with the child?” asked my father. “T cannot tell,” said my mother. “The better way will be to take care of her, and confine her to some part of the house, if she does not behave better.” “The little minx will be very troublesome.” “Do you think so?” “Yes, decidedly.” “Then we must adopt some more active measures, or we shall have to do what we do not wish. I am amused at her asking to be sent to school! Was ever there heard of such wickedness? Well, I could not have believed such ingratitude could have existed in human nature.” “Go out of the room, you hussy,” said my mother; “go out of the room, and don’t let me hear a word from you more.” I left the room terrified at the storm I had raised up against me. I knew not that I had done wrong, and went up crying to my attic alone, and found the old servant, who asked what was the matter. I told her all I had said, and what had been the result, and how I had been abused. “Why, you should let things take their own course, my dear.” “Yes, but I can learn nothing.” “Never mind; you will have plenty of money when you grow older, and that will cure many defects; people who have money CORniclooo S CO)