“You may see Sophia Jane for five minutes,” she said; “she wants to ask you something. You must promise her to do whatever she wishes, and speak very gently.”
Susan followed on tip-toe through the first room, where there were medicine bottles and a strong smell of vinegar, into the second. She looked timidly towards the bed and felt as though she should see a stranger there and not Sophia Jane. This was almost the case, for the little figure sitting propped up with pillows had nothing familiar about it. Her hair had been cut quite short, and stood up in spikes all over her head, there was a burning pink flush on each cheek, and her eyes glistened like two steel beads.
“My darling,” said Aunt Hannah soothingly, as she led Susan forward, “here is Susan, tell her what you wish, and then you must lie down quietly and go to sleep, as you promised.”
What a different voice Aunt Hannah had now that Sophia Jane was ill! And she had called her “darling!” Such a thing had never happened before!
But Sophia Jane took no notice of the caressing tone: she waved her hand fretfully as Aunt Hannah bent over her, and the gesture said more plainly than words, “Go away, and let me speak to her.” Everything seemed strangely altered, for, to Susan’s surprise, Aunt Hannah meekly obeyed, went into the next room, and shut the door.
At this Sophia Jane put out a hand about the size of a canary’s claw, and caught hold of Susan’s sleeve:
“It’s behind the big box in the attic!” she said, in a small hoarse voice. Of course it was the half-crown, but Susan was so confused by the eager gaze fixed on her, that she only said:
“What is?”
“A parcel. Done up in newspaper. For Madmozal. You must give it her.”
Susan nodded.