“Send one of the women servants here,” said Alexander.
The man bowed and went away, and was succeeded by a fat, motherly, middle-aged person who answered to the name of Molly.
Alexander silently pointed to the form on the sofa.
“Ah! Lors-a-messy! poor gall! So she’s gone to sleep at last. Well, sir, that will be the first sleep she’s had since Sunday night, and this is Wednesday. Night and day has she watched by the corpse and nobody to hinder her,” said the fat woman, holding her sides and panting, as she gazed on the sleeping orphan.
“You should have hindered her,” said Alexander.
“Me! Lors-a-messy! I couldn’t ha’ done it except by main force, which I had no right to use.”
“Well; let that pass. What I wish to know now is, whether she can be undressed and put to bed comfortably without being waked up.”
“Lors-a-messy, yes, sir! When they’s been watching and weeping three days and nights and then draps down and falls asleep, they might’s well be in a trance, far’s waking up goes. Bless you, sir, you could hardly wake her up if you was to fire off a pistol over her head.”
“I’m glad to hear you say so, but I have no wish to try the experiment. I will carry her up stairs myself. Do you go before and open the doors,” said Alexander, tenderly raising the sleeping girl in his arms and carrying her, preceded by Molly, up two flights of stairs, to Drusilla’s own little room. Here he laid her on the bed, and leaving her to the care of the woman, retired.
He went to the dinner that had been hastily prepared for him. And when he had got through with it he went into the late justice’s study and called up Dorset to a consultation about the funeral.