"Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess. "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast. Winifred's reception was kind, but more distant, and after the slight ceremonial she resumed her occupation. I’m in a mess—a nasty mess! a filthy mess! Oh, no end of a mess! “Do you hear, Ann Veronica?—you’re in a nasty, filthy, unforgivable mess! “Haven’t I just made a silly mess of things? “Forty pounds! I haven’t got twenty!” She got up, stamped with her foot, and then, suddenly remembering the lodger below, sat down and wrenched off her boots. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. He'll settle it bravely. ‘Don’t, miss,’ uttered the boy. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked.
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