Auntie Bell hesitated, but the subject weighed heavily on her mind, and the prospect of sympathy was sweet.
"It's no' that she complains," she said, "but——" her voice sank into an expressive whisper.
Mona listened attentively, and then asked a few questions.
"I wish I could come out with you and see her to-night," she said; "but a young woman has an appointment with me about the situation. I will walk out to-morrow and see your maid. It is very unlikely that I shall be able to do anything,—I know so little yet,—but her symptoms may be due to many things. If I cannot, you must either persuade her to see the doctor here; or, if she was able to be moved, I could take her with me when I go to Edinburgh, to the Women's Cottage Hospital."
"And what w'y suld ye pit yersel' aboot?"
Mona laughed. "It's my business," she said. "We all live for something."
"Na, na; if she doesna mend, she maun e'en see Dr Robertson. Maybe I've no' been sae firm wi' her as I suld ha' been; but I've nae opeenion o' doctors ava'. I'm ready tae dee when my time comes, but it'll no' be their pheesic that kills me."
Rachel came in at this moment, and the subject was dropped till Auntie Bell rose to go.
"To-morrow afternoon then," Mona said, as they stood at the garden-gate.
"Eh, lassie, I couldna hae been fonder o' ma ain bairn! Who'd iver ha' thocht it?—a wiselike, canny young crittur like you! Pit a' that nonsense oot o' yer heid!"