CHAPTER IV 28
and as she had never before been interested in any one but herself, it was the dawning of a healthy sentiment. When she went into the room which had been made into a nursery for her, she found that it was rather like the one she had slept in. It was not a child ' s room, but a grown-up person ' s room, with gloomy old pictures on the walls and heavy old oak chairs. A table in the center was set with a good substantial breakfast. But she had always had a very small appetite, and she looked with something more than indifference at the first plate Martha set before her.
" I don ' t want it," she said. " Tha ' doesn ' t want thy porridge!" Martha exclaimed incredulously. " No." " Tha ' doesn ' t know how good it is. Put a bit o ' treacle on it or a bit o ' sugar." " I don ' t want it," repeated Mary.
" Eh!" said Martha. " I can ' t abide to see good victuals go to waste. If our children was at this table they ' d clean it bare in five minutes."
" Why?" said Mary coldly.
" Why!" echoed Martha. " Because they scarce ever had their stomachs full in their lives. They ' re as hungry as young hawks an ' foxes."
" I don ' t know what it is to be hungry," said Mary, with the indifference of ignorance.
Martha looked indignant.
" Well, it would do thee good to try it. I can see that plain enough," she said outspokenly. " I ' ve no patience with folk as sits an ' just stares at good bread an ' meat. My word! don ' t I wish Dickon and Phil an ' Jane an ' th ' rest of ' em had what ' s here under their pinafores."