"Let me go, sir. I'll run every step of the way and I won't look at a single thing. I know where to go. Sir, if you'll only trust me just this once, I'll be very careful."
"No, no. You're really too scatterbrained," he said. He began pulling on his boots, but stopped with a sigh.
"I can't," he said; "I have such a headache. Hetty, I must trust to you after all. Here is money; take the tram if you can, but they only run every quarter at this hour."
"I'll do my very best," cried Hetty. And she was out of the house before any one could speak again.
A tram-car would start in ten minutes, the men told her, when she reached the place where the line stopped. Hetty would not wait, but ran on, going at such a pace that the car never overtook her. But she had the satisfaction of being in time: Much consoled, she hurried home, to find that her master had gone to bed, and that Mrs. Eyre was seriously frightened about him.
[CHAPTER V.]
UPS AND DOWNS.
"THAT'S well! Now I shall be all right after a good night's sleep," Mr. Eyre said, when assured that the unlucky letter was safely posted.
But unfortunately he did not get a good night's sleep—or any sleep at all—for he began to shiver and shake so much that Mrs. Eyre called Hetty, and sent her for Dr. Haddon. And so far from being "all right" in the morning, he was so ill that Hetty was sent with a note to Miller & Cartwright, to say that he could by no means go to his business that day.
Mr. Eyre was ill for three weeks, and it was a sharp attack. He was never in actual danger, but his wife thought he was, and her misery was great. It was now that she found the comfort of having a tender-hearted, sympathizing girl like Hetty to help her, instead of being dependent on old Mrs. Goodenough, who, though an honest, hardworking woman, was so far from feeling for others, that she never once offered to stay five minutes beyond her usual time, or to do anything but her usual work, during the whole three weeks of anxiety.