“Yes ’m, pure and hearty. It was only just a turn.”
“Yes, just so, perhaps, although I never felt it, and I could dance now only for—fifty things, so I won’t mind.” She laughed. “I’m sleepy, and I’m not sleepy; and I love you, old Mildred Tarnley, and you’ll tell me some more about Master Harry and his wife when we get upstairs. Who’d have thought that wild fellow would ever tie himself to a wife? Who’d have fancied that clever young man that loves making money so well, would have chosen out a wife without a florin to her fortune? Everything is so surprising. Come, let’s have a laugh, you and me together.”
“My laughing days is over, ma’am—not that I see much to laugh at for any one, and many a thing I thought a laughing matter when I was young seems o’erlike a crying matter now I’m grown old,” said old Mildred, and snuffed the kitchen candle with her fingers.
“Well, give me your arm, Mildred; there’s a good old thing—yes.”
And up she got her long length. Mildred took the candle, and took the tall lady gently by the wrist. The guest, however, placed her great hand upon Mildred’s shoulder, and thus they proceeded through the passages. Leaving the back stair that led to Alice’s room, at the right, they mounted the great staircase and reached a comfortably warm room with a fire flickering on the hearth, for the air was sharp. In other respects the apartment had not very much to boast.
“There’s fire here, I feel it; place my chair near it. The bed in the old place?” said the tall woman, coming to a halt.
“Yes ’m. Little change here, ever, I warrant ye, only the room’s bin new papered,” answered Mildred.
“New papered, has it? Well, I’ll sit down—thanks—and I’ll get to my bed, just now.”
“Shall I assist ye, ma’am?”
“By-and-by, thanks; but not till I have eaten a bit. I have grown hungry, what your master calls peckish. What do you advise?”