Sarahs School Friend | Page 5

of pretty vales and villages and smiling pasture, and
their own fine park; but the girl deliberately turned her back upon
nature, and looked not upon art--for art there was not in Ousebank
except what was produced in the mills--but upon nature perverted by
man, who had turned the beautiful vale into a Black Country with its
big factories, which polluted earth and sky, air and water.
She was still staring out with a frown on her face when a knock came to
the door, and she called out, 'Come in,' without turning her head to see
who the new-comer was.
'Excuse me, miss,' said the voice of the maid, 'but the mistress sent me
with this, and you'll best be getting ready for dinner, for it's late.'
Sarah turned her head, with the air that her mother declared was like
that of a duchess's daughter, and looked at the large cardboard box
which her maid held in her arms, with a gaze which, to do her justice,
she was quite unconscious was haughty. 'What is it?' she asked shortly.
'You just come and see, Miss Sarah,' replied the maid quite politely, but
with Yorkshire independence.
Sarah did not resent the tone of the advice, but came slowly from her
window-seat, and watched the maid undo the string of the box and take
out, with many exclamations of admiration, a beautiful white silk frock
elaborately trimmed with lace and ribbons.
'It's grand! Oh miss, make haste and let me do your hair, and put it on
you!' cried the maid.
'Now? I have no time. Put it away, and get out my white muslin,

Naomi,' replied Sarah, and she turned away after hardly a glance at the
pretty dress.
'But you are to wear it to-night. At least, the mistress said would you,
please, put it on,' corrected Naomi, as she saw her young mistress's
look of indignation at the peremptory order.
Sarah was just going to refuse decidedly; but the thought of her
mother's disappointment made her hesitate. The girl had good enough
taste to feel that the dress was far too smart for an ordinary family
dinner; but, then, as she reflected, it would be in keeping with the rest,
which was far too smart, all of it. So she said, 'Very well. Make haste,
Naomi.'
'There, miss, you look just like a queen, and fit to live in a palace;
though, to be sure, ours is one, or as good as one. Now, just look in the
glass and see if you aren't lovely.'
'Yes; it's very pretty,' said Sarah impatiently.
'Are you ill, miss? You don't seem a bit pleased to have such beautiful
things. I'm sure if I had everything I could wish for like you I'd be as
happy as a queen,' observed Naomi, whom Sarah allowed to say what
she liked; in the first place, because she was the daughter of the head
mill-watchman, and her family had all--some still did--worked in Clay's
Mills; and, in the second place, because they had played together as
little children.
'I dare say 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,