"Get some salt, Eleanor, and take it in to Mr. Vernon. And please say, if he should ask for me, that I'm making him some calf's-foot jelly."
Nell took in the salt. Mr. Vernon rose from the sofa on which he had seated himself, and bowed with a half-impatient, half-regretful air.
"I'm too ashamed for words," he said. "Why did you trouble? The beef tea is all right."
"It's no trouble," said Nell. "Are you comfortable?"
"Quite—quite," he replied; but for the life of him he could not help glancing at the window.
Nell suppressed a smile.
"Isn't it rather hot?" she said.
"Now you mention it, I—I think it is, rather," he assented. "I'll open the window."
"No, no," said Nell. "I'll do it; you'll hurt your arm."
She opened the window.