"I'm sleeping here," said Edwin, with determined cheerfulness. "Did ye know?"
She reflected, and answered deliberately, using her volition to articulate every syllable:
"Yes. Ye're having Maggie's room."
"Oh no, Auntie!"
"Yes, you are. I've told her." The faint voice became harshly obstinate. "Turn the gas up a bit, Edwin, so that I can see you. Well, this is an honour. Did Maggie give ye a proper tea?"
"Oh yes, thanks. Splendid."
He raised the gas. Auntie Hamps blinked.
"You want something to shade this gas," said Edwin. "I'll fix ye something."
The gas-bracket was a little to the right of the fireplace, over the dressing-table, and nearly opposite the bed. Auntie Hamps nodded. Having glanced about, Edwin put a bonnet-box on the dressing-table and on that, upright and open, the Hamps family Bible from the ottoman. The infirm creation was just lofty enough to come between the light and the old woman's eyes.
"That'll be better," said he. "You're not at all well, I hear, Auntie." He endeavoured to be tactful.