She
turned over carefully all her few remaining possessions to see if there
was any inanimate thing that she had omitted to turn into money. Jessie,
poor innocent, assisted with animation at the forlorn inventory, nestling
among the tumbled garments, leaping on and off the bed. Her ingenuous
nature supposed some odd game to be in progress, and was anxious to play
a principal and effective part in it. Yet she was quieted by the look
Cuckoo cast upon her when the wardrobe had been passed in review and no
saleable thing was to be found. She shrank into a corner, ready for
whimpering. That night Cuckoo did not sleep, and through all the long
hours she held Jessie in her arms, and heard, as so often before, the
regular breathing of this little companion of hers. And each drawn breath
pierced her heart.
Next morning she got up early. She was faint with hunger and with a
resolve that she had made. She dressed herself, then carried Jessie to
the flannel-lined basket, put her into it and kissed her.
"Go bials," she said, with a raised finger. "Go bials."
Jessie winked her eyes pathetically, her chin resting on the basket edge.
Cuckoo went out into the passage and called down to Mrs. Brigg.
"What is it?" cried Hades.
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