The bays pulling at the reins started forward and Nat was left with the umbrella.
“Would you care to offer a few words of thanks for the vouchsafed blessing?” asked Mr. Lansing, with a laudable desire to make his saintly guest comfortable, entering the house after putting the bays in their stable.
“Blessing!” echoed Temperance irascibly. “He’s had enough of blessings this night, I’m thinkin’; it’s boneset tea he needs now.”
“Woman!” said Mr. Lansing. Vashti looked her cold displeasure. The word and the look did not disturb Temperance.
“Lend a hand, M’bella,” said she; “we’ll go and get them yarbs.”
“Oh—thank you, Miss Tribbey,” said Sidney, feeling strangely comforted by this motherly old maid’s attentions. “But——”
Temperance cut him short, looking at him with grim kindness and heeding his protest not at all.
“Your face is as pale as buttermilk,” she began. “Now what you’ll do is to go upstairs and go to bed. Mind shut your window down, for rain after a drought is terrible penetratin’. When this boneset tea has drawed Mr. Lansing ’ill bring it up to you.”
Mabella was bustling about getting a lamp to go to the garret for the herbs.