Having thus easily rid herself of responsibility, Paulina was soon off on her bicycle for Chelmsford. She found time to call at the doctor's, for he arrived at "Gay Bowers" a little later. He did not think seriously of his patient, but said he needed care. Aunt and Miss Cottrell were busy for some time carrying out the doctor's instructions. Aunt Patty told me afterwards that Miss Cottrell was most useful in a sickroom. All her little vanities and affectations vanished in the presence of a need which she could relieve, and she showed herself a sensible, capable, helpful woman.
When Paulina got back in the evening she found her father no longer in pain, and sound asleep.
"Say, didn't I tell you he would soon be better? He always thinks he is going to die when he gets these attacks."
"I must say that when I saw him this morning, I felt very uneasy," replied my aunt.
"Ah, you do not know him as well as I do," was her rejoinder. "I never let these attacks alarm me. See now, I called at the post-office, and found this letter for you."
The letter proved to be from my Aunt Clara, and interested me considerably. She wrote to ask if aunt could find room in her house for my cousin Agneta. Manchester did not suit her. She was out of health, suffering from general depression, and needed a thorough change. "I thought it would be nice for her to stay in your house while Annie is there," she wrote; "they are about the same age, and will enjoy being together."
I received this proposal with mingled emotions. I hardly knew my cousin, and was by no means sure that I should enjoy having her at "Gay Bowers." Her upbringing had been so different from mine, that I fancied we should have little in common. Aunt Clara had never before shown any desire that her children should become acquainted with her sister's family. I wondered that she should now deem it "nice" that I and Agneta should meet.
"There is one thing to be said about it, Nan," remarked my aunt. "I have no room to give her; if she comes she must share yours."
As soon as I heard that, I was certain that I did not wish Agneta to come. I hated the idea of having to share my pleasant room with another girl, and the fact that the girl in question was my cousin did not reconcile me to it. It seemed essential to my happiness that I should have some place, however small, for my very own, to which I could retreat when I wanted to possess my soul in peace.
"Oh, auntie," I said, "could you not tell Miss Cottrell that you will not longer have room for her?"