She hastily dressed, without paying much attention to her toilet. Indeed, to do Mother Watson justice, her mind was far from being filled with the vanity of dress, and if she erred on that subject it was in the opposite extreme.
When her simple toilet was accomplished she went downstairs, and knocked at Mrs. Flanagan's door.
"Come in!" said a hearty voice.
Mrs. Flanagan was hard at work at her wash-tub, and had been for a good couple of hours. She raised her good-natured face as the old woman entered.
"The top of the morning to you, Mother Watson," she said. "I hope you're in fine health this morning, mum."
"Then you'll be disappointed," said Mrs. Watson. "I've got a bad feeling at my stomach, and have it most every morning."
"It's the whiskey," thought Mrs. Flanagan; but she thought it best not to intimate as much, as it might lead to hostilities.
"Better take a cup of tea," said she.
"I haven't got any," said the old woman. "I wouldn't mind a sup if you've got some handy."