It was hot and dry.
“Your cold is feverish,” he said. “You must go to bed, and stay there till the fever has passed.”
“I cannot go to bed, Signorino,” she replied.
“Can't you? Have you tried?” asked he.
“No, Signorino,” she admitted.
“Well, you never can tell whether you can do a thing or not, until you try,” said he. “Try to go to bed; and if at first you don't succeed, try, try again.”
“I cannot go to bed. Who would do the Signorino's work?” was her whispered objection.
“Hang the Signorino's work. The Signorino's work will do itself. Have you never observed that if you conscientiously neglect to do your work, it somehow manages to get done without you? You have a feverish cold; you must keep out of draughts; and the only place where you can be sure of keeping out of draughts, is bed. Go to bed at once.”
She left the room.
But when Peter came downstairs, half an hour later, he heard her moving in her kitchen.