“I am glad to tell you,” I said, “that my sister seems much better this morning.”
“Oh, ay, miss, I’m sure I’m pleased to hear it.” The landlady was all beams and curtsies. “I always said, pore dear, that it was care she wanted—and all I could I give her, as Mr Gray can testify; but when a woman has got to ’arn her living ’ard, she has no power to spend much time a-cookin’, and a-cleanin’, and a-nursin’, and a-messin’. It’s always a-nursin’ and a-messin’ with the sick, and I han’t got the time, so I’m glad you has come in, miss.”
“Yes, but I must go away for some hours,” I said, “and I want my sister to be taken all possible care of in my absence. Will you do that for me, Mrs Ashton? I will come back as early in the afternoon as I can.”
“To be sure I will, my dear.”
“Here is a piece of paper on which I have written what she is to eat, and how often she is to be fed.”
“Well, dear, I’ll do my ’umble best. I’m not good at readin’ and writin’, but Mary Ann in the kitchen can spell out what you has writ down, miss, I make no doubt.”
I left the paper in Mrs Ashton’s hands, and went back again to Hetty.
“Hetty,” I said, “I must go away for a few hours. Mrs Ashton will take all possible care of you.” I stopped, distressed by the piteous, helpless expression on her face.
“Mrs Ashton doesn’t take any care of me,” said Hetty. “She leaves me all day long, and never, never comes near the room. Yesterday the fire went out, and I got so hungry, so dreadfully hungry. Then the hunger went off, and I felt only cold and very faint. I thought perhaps I was dying. Don’t leave me with Mrs Ashton, miss.”
“You must call me Rosamund, Hetty. Now listen. Don’t tremble, dear. I am obliged to leave you. I have a mother and father, and—and—brothers. Your Jack is one of my brothers. I will come back again as soon as ever I can; and when I come I shall probably bring you a message from Jack.”