She tumbled into bed, did not attempt to say her prayers, flung her head on the pillow, and closed her eyes.
“How my temples do beat,” she said with a sort of a sob, “and my legs are icy up to my knees, and——”
“Drink this cold water to begin with,” said Leslie. “You are under my care now, and must submit to my directions.”
She brought a glass of ice-cold water, and held it to Annie’s lips.
“Oh, thank you; I was so terribly thirsty!” Annie drained the glass off and returned it to her companion.
“You are good,” she repeated. She flung her head down again on her pillow.
Leslie got out one of her own handkerchiefs, wrung it out of cold water, and laid it upon Annie’s brow. Then kneeling down, she softly unfastened the bedclothes, and began to rub the girl’s feet. She did this softly and rhythmically, as she had done often and often for Llewellyn when he was in his fits of literary despair. By slow degrees her efforts took effect; Annie’s groans grew less, her eyes closed, and in half an hour she was asleep.
“Poor thing!” thought Leslie. “I shall see to her having a nice meal to-morrow evening. I shall make her give me some of her money to get the needful things with. We will have our own spirit-stove and a saucepan, and I will buy milk and cocoa. When she has taken something hot, which will be much better than cold water, and goes to bed really warm, she will sleep. I only trust she won’t wake between two and four o’clock, for I am dead tired.”
Remembering Annie’s warning, Leslie put the screen round her bed, next tumbled in; thought that the bed with the broken spring was anything but comfortable, but then reflected that she was too tired to care. She was at St. Wode’s; the dream of her life was fulfilled, and even Annie Colchester could not keep her awake.