“Go, dear, go,” she said, speaking as gently as she could, and closing her eyes.
“You’d like to have a nap, wouldn’t you?” said Molly, her face brightening. “I’ll put this shawl over your feet.”
“No, thank you, I’m too hot.”
The shawl was wrenched with some force from Molly’s hand.
“Oh, mothery, don’t get into a temper. You are not really vexed with your Molly, are you? I’ll be up again soon. I will, really.”
“Go,” said the weak, querulous voice, and Molly went.
“Is she all right?” asked Ethel when Molly rushed down to the summerhouse.
“Oh, yes,” said Molly in a cheerful tone. “She is going to sleep.”
“To sleep?” said Ethel in astonishment.
“Yes, she didn’t wish me to stay. Dear old mother, she is so unselfish. I made her very comfy and I’ll go back again presently. Now, I can look after you; I’m going to help you. Sit down there, Ethel, and let me pour out the tea. Fie, Ethel, you have not given Jim anything.”