Miss Perkins sniffed. "If he isn't a man, I don't know what else he is. Folks has their different sorts of ways of thinking, though; and my way of thinking isn't yours by a long chalk."
Then she quitted the room, and Jessie, pushing aside the basin of gruel, tossed restlessly to and fro for a long while, divided between distress at Jack's sufferings and poignant regrets for her own betrayal of feeling. She ended by dropping sound asleep.
When, two hours later, she woke up, things did not look quite so desperate. Flushes and shivering had departed; and Jessie felt altogether more like her ordinary self. After all, everybody knew the ways of little Miss Sophy Coxen; and people would allow for probable exaggerations; and nobody could wonder at a certain amount of feeling shown at such a moment; and besides all this, Jessie herself could do much to set matters right, by assuming on air of high-and-mighty indifference whenever Jack was named.
Having arrived at these conclusions and consoled herself therewith, Jessie began to debate whether she might not get up and dress. She decided, however, that this would be venturing too far, in the face of her aunt's prohibition. The act might draw unpleasant consequences.
Something of a mysterious nature seemed to be going on below. Was Miss Perkins airing the room still? And why should she take to airing it thus abruptly, without any especial reason, in the middle of an afternoon? Jessie listened intently, and presently made out subdued voices—a man's voice, she was sure. Curiosity rose high.
[CHAPTER VII]
MISS PERKINS' NEW INMATE
MILDRED PATTISON'S coming to, out of her long unconsciousness, was a slow and tedious affair. Not only had she been three-fourths drowned before the brave crew of rescuers dragged her into their boat, but also, when the rising tide, with a final effort, dashed the boat bottom up on the shingles, smashing Mr. Gilbert's right arm, stunning Adams, and breaking Jack Groates' leg, Millie received a blow upon her head, sufficient to have rendered her senseless, apart from other calamities.
She was taken first to old Adams' cottage, the most roomy of all the small cottages "down at the Corner." Every effort was there made to bring her to, and enough success rewarded the efforts to show that she was living. But though more than once Millie opened her eyes and gazed vaguely about, it could scarcely be called "consciousness." In after-days she had no recollection of this time, or of being conveyed to Old Maxham.
The question soon arose: What was to be done with her? Adams' family had enough to do in looking after himself; and they were very poor; and space was scanty. But for Mr. Gilbert's severe injuries, he would doubtless have had her taken to the Vicarage, and placed under the care of his old housekeeper. That plan now was impossible; at all events, he was too ill to think of it, and the old housekeeper counted that her hands were sufficiently full.