He saw her frail fingers over the cup, her lips making a little move.
"I know—I tasted it," he said. "But I'll give you some clean milk afterwards."
"I think so," she said, and she went on with the draught. She was obedient to him like a child. He wondered if she knew. He saw her poor wasted throat moving as she drank with difficulty. Then he ran downstairs for more milk. There were no grains in the bottom of the cup.
"Has she had it?" whispered Annie.
"Yes—and she said it was bitter."
"Oh!" laughed Annie, putting her under lip between her teeth.
"And I told her it was a new draught. Where's that milk?"
They both went upstairs.
"I wonder why nurse didn't come to settle me down?" complained the mother, like a child, wistfully.
"She said she was going to a concert, my love," replied Annie.