There came a tap at the door, and the wizened and somewhat cross face of a middle-aged woman appeared.
“How do you do, Mrs. Vincent?” said Mrs. Richmond. She always spoke cordially to every one; her face beamed kindness itself on all the world.
Mrs. Vincent came in slowly.
“I am glad you have called, ma’am; the poor thing upstairs is very bad—very bad indeed—not likely to live many hours, the doctor says.”
“Oh! my good soul, I had not an idea that it was so near as that.”
“I am telling you the truth, madam; and the fact is, her poverty is excessive, and”——
“Now listen to me, Mrs. Vincent. Everything she needs as far as you are concerned will be paid for; see that she has every imaginable comfort. And leave the room.”
Mrs. Richmond’s kindly eyes could flash when occasion arose, and Mrs. Vincent, curtsying and mumbling, but highly delighted all the same, went downstairs.
There was no sign of Nan coming back, and Mrs. Richmond, after waiting for a quarter of an hour, determined to go upstairs to her sick friend’s room. The door was a little ajar; she pushed it open and went in. Nan was lying across the bed, her face close to the very white face of a woman whose features were wonderfully like her own. The woman’s eyes were open, and her lips were moving. Mrs. Richmond came and, without saying a word, lifted the child off the bed. Nan turned in a wild fury; she felt very much inclined to strike the intruder, but the look on her visitor’s face restrained her.
“You can stay, dear, if you like,” said Mrs. Richmond; and then she went round to the other side of the bed.