But Mrs. Turretviile was not
at home, and the bonnet could not be left till paid for. So Lizzie
turned to go down the high steps, glad that she need not wait. She
stopped one instant to take a delicious sniff at her flowers, and
that was the last happy moment that poor Lizzie knew for many weary
months.
The new boots were large for her, the steps slippery with sleet, and
down went the little errand girl, from top to bottom, till she
landed in the gutter directly upon Mrs. Turretville's costly bonnet.
"I've saved my posies, anyway," sighed Lizzie, as she picked herself
up, bruised, wet, and faint with pain; "but, oh, my heart! won't
Madame scold when she sees that band-box smashed flat," groaned the
poor child, sitting on the curbstone to get her breath and view the
disaster.
The rain poured, the wind blew, the sparrows on the park railing
chirped derisively, and no one came along to help Lizzie out of her
troubles. Slowly she gathered up her burdens; painfully she limped
away in the big boots; and the last the naughty sparrows saw of her
was a shabby little figure going round the corner, with a pale,
tearful face held lovingly over the bright bouquet that was her one
treasure and her only comfort in the moment which brought to her the
great misfortune of her life.
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