"No, not a word, till you say I may."
"Well, I don't mind if I do go. I've felt so bad all day."
Mrs. Plunkett dragged herself up the stairs, and Marigold followed, deftly helping. She saw her stepmother into bed, put the disorderly room into a state of neatness, shaded the candle from Mrs. Plunkett's eyes, and asked gently, "Anything more I can do?"
"No. You're a good girl, Marigold," in a voice which told of tears.
"I want to be good, and you'll help me now."
"I'm sorry I've been so cross. There! But I couldn't help it."
Marigold kissed her and slipped away. Downstairs she had just time to put everything into apple-pie order before Plunkett himself appeared.
He cast a gratified glance around. "That's something like!" he said. "If I'd knowed, I'd have been back an hour ago. Where's she?"
"Mother's gone to bed."
"Eh?