“Oh, dear, oh, dear! it's the rheumatics you'll be getting, and then you'll lose your beautiful straight figure. I must rub your legs. There, sit on the bed and I'll begin.”
Nora submitted to Biddy's ministrations. The room was lit by a small dip candle, which was placed in an old tin candlestick on the mantelpiece.
“Dear, dear! the light will be coming in no time, and we can quench the glim then,” said Biddy. “I've got to be careful about candles. We're precious short of everything at Cronane just now. We're as poor as church mice; it's horrid to be so desperately poor as that. But, hurrah for the cold taters and bacon! We'll have a right good meal. That will warm you up; and I have a little potheen in a black bottle, too. I'll put some water to it and you shall have a drink.”
“I never touch it,” said Nora, shuddering.
“But you must tonight, or you'll catch your death of cold. There, the best thing you can do is to get right into bed. Why, you're shivering, and your teeth are chattering. It's a fine state Mrs. O'Shanaghgan will be in tomorrow when you go back to her.”
“I must not get ill, Biddy; that would never do,” said Nora, pulling herself together with an effort. “Yes, I'll get into bed; and I'll take a little of your potheen—very, very weak, if you'll mix it for me—and I'll have some of the bacon and potatoes. Oh! I would eat anything rather than be ill. I never was really ill in my life; but now, of all times, it would never do.”
“Well, then, here you go. Tumble into bed. I'll pile the blankets on you. Now, isn't that better?”
Biddy bustled, intent on hospitality. She propped Nora up with pillows, pulled a great rug over her shoulders, and heaped on more and more blankets, which she pulled expeditiously from under the bed. “They always stay here in the summer,” said Biddy. “That's to keep them aired; and now they're coming in very handy. You have got four doubled on you now; that makes eight. I should think you'd soon be warm enough.”
“I expect I shall soon be too hot,” said Nora; “but this is very nice.”
She sipped the potheen, ate a little bacon and cold potatoes, and presently declared herself well again.