Altogether, Strong had a hard day.
Cora kept her continually on her feet. The blinds must be opened, and shut again, every fifteen minutes. The room was too hot, and the fire must be smothered. Then it was too cold, and the fire must be stimulated to a blaze. And no one could wait upon her but Strong.
As night came on, the paroxysms of pain returned in full force, and Strong was implored once more to apply the soothing mustard.
When Madeline looked in at ten o'clock, Cora was groaning in misery, and Strong was applying a blister. When she again looked in, an hour later, the invalid, with blistered face and fevered eyes, feebly declared herself a "trifle easier," and Strong was bathing her head with eau de Cologne.
Madeline soon retired to her room, and her couch. But for half an hour longer, Cora kept the now yawning Strong at her side. Then she said:
"Go now and get some rest, Strong. Leave the mustard on my face, and then I think I can sleep. I am getting drowsy now."
Strong replaced the mustard, and raked up the fire. Then she looked carefully to the fastenings of the doors, and returned to the bedside. Already her mistress was in a heavy slumber.
Putting in her pocket the keys of both doors, Strong retired to the dressing-room and, loosening her garments, threw herself down wearily upon a couch, and was soon sleeping the sleep of the just, and breathing heavily.
For some moments after the loud breathing told that her maid was asleep, Cora lay quietly, but with eyes wide open. Then she stirred, making a slight noise, but the heavy breathing continued as before.
Cora now raised herself up on her elbow and again listened. Still the heavy breathing. Again she moved audibly, at the same time calling softly: "Strong!"