Impatiently she turned her imperial head, when the sound of approaching steps broke the stillness; and her tone was sharp as that of one suddenly roused from deep sleep,—
“Well, Elsie! What is it?”
“Tea, my child, has been waiting half-an-hour.”
“Then go and get your share of it. I want none.”
“But you ate no dinner to-day. Does your head ache?”
“Oh, no; my heart jealously monopolizes that privilege!”
The old woman sighed audibly, and Mrs. Gerome added,—
“Pray, do not worry yourself about me! When I feel disposed to come in I can find the way to the door. Go and get your supper.”
The nurse passed her wrinkled hand over the drab muslin sleeves and skirt, and touched the folds of hair.
“But, my bairn, the dew is thick on your head and has taken all the starch out of your dress. Please come out of this fog that is creeping up like a serpent from the sea. You are not used to such damp air, and it might give you rheumatic cramps.”