seem always to be in a state of being washed, and laundered, and cleaned up; yet which never show many traces of cleanliness, after all.
"We live on the top floor," said Maggie, volunteering her first remark since starting homeward.
"That doesn't scare us," said Laura, cheerfully. "Lead on, MacDuff!"
"No. My name's Plornish," said this very literal—and seemingly dull—little girl.
"Very well, Maggie MacDuff Plornish!" laughed Mother Wit. "We follow you."
The little girl toiled up the stairs like an old woman. Laura and Jess caught glimpses of other tenements as they followed the child and saw that there was real poverty here. Jess began to compare her situation with that of these humble folk, and saw that she had much to be grateful for.
She was troubled over the lack of a new party dress, perhaps, or because there were times when she and her mother were pinched for money. But the bare floors and uncurtained windows of these "flats," with the poor furniture and raggedly clothed children, spelled a degree of poverty deeper than Jess Morse had imagined before.
A sallow woman met them at the door of one
