“Oh, yes!” she uttered, with a sigh of relief.
Chapter Eighteen.
Grandmamma in Retreat.
“I am better now, Phoebe,” said Mrs Enderby, sinking back faintly in her easy-chair, after one of her attacks of spasms. “I am better now; and if you will fan me for a minute or two, I shall be quite fit to see the children—quite delighted to have them.”
“I declare,” said the maid, “here are the drops standing upon your face this cold day, as if it was August! But if the pain is cone, never mind anything else! And I, for one, won’t say anything against your having the children in; for I’m sure the seeing your friends has done you no harm, and nothing but good.”
“Pray, draw up the blind, Phoebe, and let me see something of the sunshine. Bless me! how frosty the field looks, while I have been stifled with heat for this hour past! I had better not go to the window, however, for I begin to feel almost chilly already. Thank you, Phoebe; you have fanned me enough. Now call the children, Phoebe.”
Phoebe wrapped a cloak about her mistress’s knees, pinned her shawl up closer around her throat, and went to call the children in from the parlour below. Matilda drew up her head and flattened her back, and then asked her grandmamma how she did. George looked up anxiously in the old lady’s face.
“Ah, George,” said she, smiling; “it is an odd face to look at, is not it? How would you like your face to look as mine does?”