“I cannot be with the dear child half so much as I should like to be,” she said; “visitors are so exacting.”
Fay had slept very little during Mildred’s illness, and now that the child was nearly well the elder girl began to flag somewhat, and was tired early in the evening, and glad to go to bed at the same hour as the patient, who, under Bell’s supervision, was made to retire before eight. She was now well enough to sit up all day, and to drive out in a pony-carriage in the sunny hours after early dinner. Fay went with her, of course. Pony and landscape would have been wanting in charm without Fay’s company. Both girls had gone to bed one sultry evening in the faint gray twilight. Fay was sleeping profoundly; but Mildred, after dozing a little, was lying half-awake, with closed eyelids, in the flower-scented room. The day had been exceptionally warm. The windows were all open, and a door between Mildred’s bedroom and sitting-room had been left ajar.
Bell was in the sitting-room at her favourite task of clearing up the scattered toys and books, and reducing all things to mathematical precision. Meta, Mildred’s German maid, was sitting at needlework near the window by the light of a shaded lamp. The light shone in the twilight through the partly-open door, and gave Mildred a sense of company. They began to talk presently, and Mildred listened, idly at first, and soothed by the sound of their voices, but afterwards with keen curiosity.
“I know I shouldn’t like to be treated so,” said Meta.
“I don’t see that she has anything to complain of,” answered Bell. “She has a good home, and everything provided for her. What more can she want?”
“I should want a good deal more if I was a heiress.”
“An heiress,” corrected Bell, who prided herself on having cultivated her mind, and was somewhat pedantic of speech. “That’s all nonsense, Meta. She’s no more an heiress than I am. Mr. Fausset told my poor young mistress that just to throw dust in her eyes. Heiress, indeed! An heiress without a relative in the world that she can speak of—an heiress that has dropped from the moon. Don’t tell me.”
Nobody was telling Mrs. Bell anything; but she had a resentful air, as if combating the arguments of an invisible adversary.
There was a silence during which Mildred nearly fell asleep; and then the voices began again.
“It’s impossible for sisters to be fonder of each other than those two are,” said Meta.