"Meanwhile, I will undertake to see that Mrs. Renford wants for nothing," declared Mrs. M'Cosh; "I live in the house and understand nursing."
The doctor nodded and took his departure, promising to call again on the following day. Mrs. M'Cosh followed him downstairs and held a brief conference with him ere he left the house. Ten minutes later she reappeared in the attic, bearing a tray which held a teapot, three cups, a cake, and a plate of daintily cut bread and butter.
"I thought it would be pleasant for us all to have tea together," she remarked as she put her burden on the table. "Now, Felicia, try to make a good meal, to please me, and do you try also, my dear," she added, glancing at the invalid.
"I shall never be able to thank you for your kindness," Mrs. Renford replied, with rather an uncertain smile. She was deeply touched by the way in which Mrs. M'Cosh had called her "my dear."
"Please don't try," was the quick response; "I've a notion that if I was ill you'd do as much for me. Yes, I know you would. Now, Felicia, cut that cake whilst I pour out the tea."
The little girl obeyed. She was looking quite bright and smiling, the truth being that she thought her mother could not be very ill, as the doctor had not ordered her removal to the hospital; and she was so relieved at his not having done so that she was feeling quite light-hearted. Poor little girl, she did not dream of the trouble which was coming upon her!
Mrs. M'Cosh watched her with an expression of mingled sympathy and tenderness which was not lost upon the invalid, who, at the conclusion of the meal, suggested that Felicia should go out and do the errands she had mentioned earlier in the day. Accordingly, Felicia sallied forth, carrying a great bundle of blouses and aprons to be delivered at the shop for which her mother worked, satisfied with the knowledge that Mrs. M'Cosh would remain in the attic till her return.
"Indeed, she is very, very kind," thought the little girl gratefully; "and she seems to get on with mother better than she did at first."
She took the blouses and aprons to the shop, and received the payment for the making of them—only a small sum, certainly, but sufficient to buy a few groceries. How she longed to be able to purchase something very nice for her mother! She lingered outside the provision shops staring into the windows, halt no one took any notice of her. In Bristol, that city of charities, as in most places, it is the deserving poor who are generally overlooked.
"Oh, if I were only rich!" sighed Felicia, pausing by-and-by before a florist's shop. "How I wish I had some of those flowers for mother! Oh, those roses and lilies! How she would love a sight of them!"