"I wish we had some logs," she said; "they'd make the sparks flare up the chimney. It's going to be a bitterly cold night."
Susan made no answer.
"What's the matter with you, Sukey? Are you sulky?"
"I feel miserable enough," said Susan.
"You look it; you look perfectly dreadful. Do you know what I have heard? I have heard that Christian Mitford is much worse this evening. The doctor is with her now. Don't you think we are all a little hard on poor Christian?"
"Don't mention her name," said Susan passionately. "I hate her. I can't sit in the room with people who talk about her."
"Oh, isn't that very silly, and very unkind? She has done nothing, poor girl!"
"Oh, hasn't she? We were happy enough in the school until she came here."
"Well, there's no doubt that she is very ill. I thought that it was perhaps about her you were fretting. It's getting to be quite a weight on my conscience. If she gets the least scrap worse I shall surely have to tell myself."
"You'll have to do what?" said Susan.