"Oh! well," responded Miss De Courcy, with a hoarse little laugh of amusement. "I thought they might have—thought maybe they objected to your making 'cquaintances without a regular introduction, you know. Haven't been here long, have you?"
"No," said Druse, looking down at her tidy, with a sudden homesick thrill. "No, I—I come from East Green, Connecticut. I ain't got used to it here, much. It's kind o' lonesome, days. I s'pose you don't mind it. It's different if you're used to it, I guess."
Somehow Druse did not feel as timid as usual, though her weak little voice, thin, like the rest of her, faltered a trifle, but then she had never called on a lady so magnificently dressed before.
"Yes, I'm pretty well used to it by this," replied Miss De Courcy, with the same joyless little laugh, giving the lace skirt an absent-minded kick with her red morocco toe. "I lived in the country before—when I was little."
"You did!" exclaimed Druse. "Then I guess you know how it is at first. When you think every Friday night (there ain't been but two, yet) 'There, they're gettin' ready for Lodge meetin';' and every Sunday evenin' 'bout half-past seven: 'I guess it's mos' time for the Meth'dis' bell to ring. I must get my brown felt on, and—'"
"Your what?" asked Miss De Courcy.
"My brown felt, my hat, an'—oh! well, there's lots o' things I kind o' forget, and start to get ready for. An' I can't sleep much on account of not having Bell an' Virey an' Mimy to bed with me. It's so lonesome without 'em. The children here won't sleep with me. I did have Gusty one night, but I woke her up four times hangin' on to her. I'm so used to holding Mimy in! Oh! I guess I'll get over it all right, but you know how it is yourself."
Miss De Courcy did not reply. She had closed her eyes, and now she gave the bandage on her head an angry twich. "Oh, how it aches!" she said through her shut teeth. "Here, give me that bottle on the stand, will you? It'll make it worse, but I don't care. My doctor's medicine don't seem to do me much good, but I sort of keep on taking it," she said to Druse, grandly as she poured out a brownish liquid into the cloudy glass that the good little housekeeper had eyed dubiously, before giving it to her.
Miss De Courcy's doctor evidently believed in stimulants; a strong odor of Scotch whiskey filled the room.
"It smells quite powerful, does'nt it?" she said. "It has something in it to keep it, you know. It's very unpleasant to take," she added, rolling up her brown eyes to Druse's compassionate face.