"Haven't you heard? She was taken ill this evening, and the doctor says she won't live long." At this moment a girl was seen running towards them, and when she reached the gate she suddenly stopped. She was out of breath with her run, but she did not wait to recover it.
"Can you lend us a sheet?" she panted.
"Why, it's Jessie Collins!" said Mrs. Brown. "How is your mother now?"
"Doctor says she is a mite better, but I must get clean sheets for her."
She did not look at Mrs. Brown as she said this, for she knew she was no favourite of hers; and besides, the Browns had always been people who kept themselves to themselves, making few friends among the neighbours. But Mrs. Satchell, who stood near the gate, was an old friend of her mother's, and might be expected to help them.
But Mrs. Satchell made no reply to the appeal for sheets; and Mrs. Brown, after waiting for her to answer, said—
"I think I can lend you the sheets, Jessie. But they are old ones that I have patched."
"Oh, thank you! They will do, if they are clean; and I know they will be if they are yours, Mrs. Brown," added the girl, gratefully.
Mrs. Brown went upstairs for the sheets, and when she brought them down she said—
"Now, can I help you put them on the bed, or have you got anybody else to help you?"