"Oh don't let's talk of it. I want to forget it all now you have come. You will stay to lunch of course, but I can only offer you pot luck."
"No, I can't stay to lunch," he said rising, "but I am going to tell that nice little maid of yours to bring you some beef tea or milk. You need it."
"Beef tea!" exclaimed Rachel laughing. "Why, only invalids can go in for such luxuries and I certainly am not one."
"I am not quite so sure of that. Anyhow you need something at this moment and you must let me go and see what there is to have, while you sit still."
"Oh you mustn't pity me," cried Rachel. "I can go on quite well if no-one notices me; but sympathy just weakens me. You really mustn't be too kind." Rachel had risen looking distressed. Then she dropped into her chair again and covered her face with her hands. "I wish you hadn't come," she sobbed.
"No, you don't. You are very pleased to see your father's greatest friend. You mustn't talk nonsense," said the Bishop with a smile. "Don't you suppose I understand? You needn't mind me finding this out. You must let me try and help you, and get you something. Polly will help me."
THE BISHOP STOOD IN THE TINY KITCHEN
FACING THE DIMINUTIVE POLLY.
Rachel sat still while the Bishop made his way into the kitchen. She was so played out that she had not even the energy to wonder what he would find there. She just lay still with a restful sense of being looked after.