“It was this nurse who attended you, wasn’t it—at the hospital?”
“Yes, miss,” said Maria, tightening her lips and looking vicious.
“Hallo!” said Dana, laughing boisterously. “Look at her, Saxa. I say, used she to drink your port wine and eat your new laid eggs?”
“Oh, I don’t know what she did, miss,” said Maria, in a tone of voice which seemed to say, “Ask me a little more.”
“There, I’m nearly ready,” said Saxa, examining herself in the glass. “I suppose the dinner bell will go directly. Maria doesn’t like nurse. She’s too much of the fine madam—eh, ’Ria?”
“Yes, miss, a deal too much for me.”
“Never mind; she made a better job of you than of the old man. He gets well very slowly.”
“Perhaps nurse knows when she is in a comfortable place, and doesn’t want to go back to London,” said Maria tartly.
“Very likely,” said Saxa coolly. “No love lost between you two, I see.”
“No, Miss Lydon, indeed there is not.”