The photographer's art had succeeded admirably
with Bessie, and made a most wonderful picture of childish innocence and
beauty, besides bringing out about the mouth and into the eyes that
patient, half sorry expression which spoke to Miss Betsey of loneliness
and hunger far up in the fourth and fifth stories of fashionable hotels,
where the little girl often ate her smuggled dinner of rolls and nuts
and raisins, and whatever else her mother could convey into her pocket
unobserved by those around her.
"Yes, she looks as if a big slice of plum pudding or mince pie would do
her good! Poor little thing, and I am not to have her," Miss Betsey
said, with a lump in her throat, as she continued reading:
"You saw her once, I know, three years ago, at Aberystwyth, though
she had no idea then who the funny woman was who asked her so many
questions. Why didn't you make yourself known to us? Archie would
have been delighted to meet you. He never saw you, I believe. And
why didn't you speak to me when I went by as Bessie says I did? Was
Archie with me, I wonder? or, was it young Lord Hardy from Dublin,
Archie's best friend? He was with us there, and sometimes walked
with me when Archie was not inclined to go out.
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