He raised his head quickly, and looking towards the girl with a brightened face, nodded to her, and said 'Yes,' Florence looked towards her too, and gave her a kind salutation; the girl muttered something in return, ungraciously and sullenly.
'Is she in want of employment also?' said Florence.
The man shook his head. 'No, Miss,' he said. 'I work for both,'
'Are there only you two, then?' inquired Florence.
'Only us two,' said the man. 'Her mother his been dead these ten year. Martha!' lifted up his head again, and whistled to her) 'won't you say a word to the pretty young lady?'
The girl made an impatient gesture with her cowering shoulders, and turned her head another way. Ugly, misshapen, peevish, ill-conditioned, ragged, dirty - but beloved! Oh yes! Florence had seen her father's look towards her, and she knew whose look it had no likeness to.
'I'm afraid she's worse this morning, my poor girl!' said the man, suspending his work, and contemplating his ill-favoured child, with a compassion that was the more tender for being rougher.
'She is ill, then!' said Florence.