“Oh no, my throat always used to get tired. Mother’s is the same. We can’t either of us talk for ten minutes without feeling it. It’s perfectly awful.”
“But, my dear, oughtn’t ye to see someone—have some advice? I mean ye ought to see a doctor.”
Miriam glanced at Miss Haddie’s concerned face and glanced away with a flash of hatred. “Oh no. I s’pose I shall manage.”
“D’ye think yer wise—letting it go on?”
Miriam made no reply.
“Well now, my dear,” said Miss Haddie, getting down off the table, “I think it’s time ye went to bed.”
“Phm,” said Miriam impatiently, “I suppose it is.”
Miss Haddie sat down again. “I wish I could help ye, my dear,” she said gently.
“Oh, no one can do that,” said Miriam in a hard voice.
“Oh yes,” murmured Miss Haddie cheerfully, “there’s One who can.”