That evening, after her father had gone, and she sat there with the sleeping Mrs.Addix, a sort of frenzy seized her, or, rather, she worked herself up to it.

She thought of what her mother would have said to that beautiful new paper, and furniture, and bay-window.

Her mother also had liked pink.
She thought of how much her mother would have liked it, and how she had gone without, and not made any complaint about her shabby old furnishings, which had that very day been sold to Mrs.Addix for an offset to her wages, and which Maria had seen carried away.

She thought about it all, and a red flush deepened on her cheeks, and her blue eyes blazed.

For the time she was abnormal.