But the invalid, weak as she was, seemed to divine her sister's intention, for rousing herself by a great effort she gasped, "They have no other home, and they must stay here. I shall soon be better," she added as she closed her eyes.
Fortunately for her, Deborah believed in good kitchen physic with as profound a faith as the doctor did in blood-letting, and having no desire to be present at that operation she hurried away as soon as she had brought towels and basin for the doctor's use, and for the sheer comfort that the occupation afforded her, proceeded to shred some beef and mutton into small pieces, and then set it on the fire to stew for her mistress, when she should be able to take anything.
No one seemed to think the poor woman might be in want of food, but in point of fact she had eaten nothing since she left home the day before, so that her weakness was not at all surprising. When, therefore, Deborah brought up a cupful of the savoury broth she had made, with a delicate slice of home-made bread, Dame Drayton was able to take it and appeared greatly revived, so that her sister lost all fear of the illness being gaol fever, and said she must return home, as she was expecting some guests at the vicarage.
"Then I will stay and nurse aunt," said Audrey, following her mother downstairs, for she knew there would be some difficulty in persuading her mother to allow her to do this, and the discussion had better take place at a distance from her aunt's bedroom.
The difficulties were greater than Audrey had anticipated.
"If these Quaker children are sent away, and you can be of any use to poor old Deborah in nursing your aunt, I do not mind you staying; but for a vicar's daughter to live in the same house as a Quaker would be quite unseemly. Perhaps I had better go and tell your aunt what I think about the matter, and let her choose between you." And as she spoke, madam turned to the door.
But Audrey was quicker, and intercepted her before she could open it.
"Mother, why are you so cruel? Why do you want to turn these poor children out when they have no home but this?" said Audrey, with flashing eyes.
"They ought never to have come here. Your aunt should not have taken them in among her own children. It is they who have brought all this trouble upon them. How are they to be kept, I should like to know, now that your uncle is in prison, and can no longer work for them? I do not suppose your aunt has much money put away, and—"
"Mother, is there no God to take care of aunt and these children, that you talk like that?" asked Audrey, looking at her mother's anxious careworn face, and comparing it with her aunt's sweet placid countenance. "Whether aunt is a Quaker or not, she loves God, and of course God loves her, and will take care of her somehow, and I am going to help Him to do it."