"I shall never see her again," said Mrs. Croft mournfully. "I shall never see no one again. Oh, dear; oh, dear. My eyes. My eyes."
"What shall I get you? A glass of milk?"
"It doesn't matter. Whatever you like. I was never one to make trouble. Whatever you like."
When Jane returned with the milk and some hastily prepared bread and butter, Mrs. Croft was praying rapidly. "I think I've got religion," said she, in a bright, chatty tone; "if you'll sit down, I'll convert you. It's never too late to mend, and so get your darning basket and come right here." She began to eat and drink very rapidly. "It's going to kill me," she said, between bites, "but I don't care a mite. What is life after all,—a vain fleeting shadow of vanity,—why, you ain't put no jam on this bread!"
"Do you like jam? I'll get you some at once."
"Oh, merciful heavens, waking me up in the dead of night to give me plain bread and no jam! I shall never see Katie again, and perhaps it's just as well, for she'd not stand such doings. Oh, you idle, thriftless girl, take me home, take me home at once."
"In the morning," said Jane gently.
"Oh, my,—why did I ever come! Katie, my Katie, my long-loving Katie; my dear little Katie that's gone to New York!"
Then, having swallowed the milk in great gulps and the bread in great bites, she shut her eyes and lay back again in bed.
"Shan't I bring you anything else?" Jane asked.