"Surely, and I'll send for the doctor right away."
"No, don't send for the doctor. I ain't got no money to pay him. And it don't matter. I want to die. Just leave me."
"I'll get an order for the parish doctor," said Mrs. Webb. "And don't talk so foolish about dying. You're not going to die. Not a bit of it."
Meg groaned.
"I wish I could. I wish I could," she sighed. "No one wants me. No one would care if I died."
"That ain't true my dear. I guess that young man you told me about, your Jem as you call him, would be mighty put about to find you dead. Men don't forget like that."
"Yes they do. Jem has a right to forget because I turned my back upon him. They've all forgotten. Sheila and Miss Gregson and the lot of them. I want to die."
"You'll be better by and bye," said Mrs. Webb, putting a kind though hot hand on the girl's forehead. "And anyway God hasn't forgot you."
"Hasn't He? How do you know? I've prayed many a time 'O God, take care of me,' and look at me now."
"And ain't He answered your prayer?" said Mrs. Webb. "How about that wicked woman that tried to get hold of you? If it hadn't been that I had been sent by that very train where would you be now? Wasn't it God that took care of you then?"