CHAPTER TWENTYMirrie had been at Field End for six weeks, but she had had eighteen years of drab poverty before that. It hadn’t been want. There was a decent roof over her head, and there was enough to eat. The charity clothes had often been of quite good quality. If they required mending they were mended very neatly indeed, at first by Aunt Grace, and afterwards by Mirrie herself under Aunt Grace’s eye. But it was all very penny-plain. There were no extras, there were no treats, there was no fun. The child who craved for colour and enjoyment began to snatch at them wherever and however they might be come by. She learned, to start with, in a perfectly innocent and accidental manner, that a child who burst into tears in a bus and sobbed out her dismay at having had her fare stolen was pract
