"You must change, miss," Mrs. Harries went on. "Or you can pack your box
and go on the streets. Must not think because you are Welsh you can do
as you like here."
On a sudden Winnie spoke and charged her mistress with a want of virtue.
"Is that the kind of miss you are!" Mrs. Harries shouted. "Where did you
get those shoes from?"
"You yourself gave them to me."
"You thief! You know I didn't. They are far too small for your big feet.
Come along--let's see what you've got upstairs."
That hour Mrs. Harries summoned a policeman, and in due time Winnie was
put in prison.
Tim and Martha did not speak to any one of this that had been done to
their daughter.
"Punished must a thief be," said Tim. "Bad is the wench."
"Bad is our little daughter," answered Martha.
Sabbath morning came and she wept.
"Showing your lament you are, old fool," cried Tim.
"For sure, no. But the mother am I."