"Mrs. Short," said he, "I will not have a fire, thank you; and there are no spirits in the house."
Mrs. Short had a store of spirits in her own house, and yet, strange to say, her good-nature did not prompt her to offer him any.
"A cup of tea, then," said she, "that's next best;" and she bustled downstairs before he could speak. What Ralph endured, lying there helpless, and listening to that woman fussing about downstairs, ransacking cupboards and tumbling out the contents of drawers—no one will ever know. She brought up coal, in spite of him, and lighted a blazing fire. Then she made some tea, and insisted upon his drinking it too; nay, when she found that he could not hold the cup to his lips, she actually fed him with it. It got very cold in the process, and was besides so strong that it made him feverish. Then she piled more coal on the fire, and went home to see after her dinner. She had never been silent all this time for five seconds together, so her departure was a great relief.
It was on the third day of Ralph's illness that Ruth Garland, getting alarmed about him, because it was so long since he had been to see her, actually laid aside her work, put on her warm jacket, and ran down the hill to Lady Mabel's Rest, to see after her kind friend. She met Mr. Hingston, the warden, in the gate. Hingston knew her, having often seen her with Ralph, and stopped to speak to her.
"Well, Miss Garland, I suppose you have come to inquire for Mr. Trulock. He'll be all right again soon—Mrs. Short told me so last night."
"Oh, sir, has he been ill, then?"
"He has been very poorly, but Mrs. Short has been taking good care of him, and he refused to see me or have the doctor."
"I wish I had known," said Ruth.
"Well, knowing how fond the old man is of you and your little brother, I wanted to let you know, but he sent me word not to do so, as he would rather not have you coming to him. He said he wanted no one but Mrs. Short."
Ruth looked at him with a startled air.