"'Tisn't very likely Mrs. Dobbs would ask your leave every time she wished to go out," answered Helen, her anger getting the better of her prudence. "I think 'twould appear much better in you to be thankful that you have a good home here, instead of finding fault all the time as you do. I'm sure everybody sees how Mrs. Dobbs and Jane make slaves of themselves to put up with your whims."
Mrs. Frost grew deadly pale, and caught her breath with difficulty; but without noticing it, Helen went on;
"Even the servants complain of your ill temper; and Hannah gave notice yesterday that she must leave if she couldn't get better rest, for what with your scolding and whining she didn't sleep half the night. I'm sure if they have to keep you here, I don't see what you want to make yourself so disagreeable for."
The old woman threw up her hands, as if her distress was beyond her power to express, and then sank back on the pillow, with such unmistakable marks of suffering that Helen became alarmed.
She flew to the bell-rope and pulled it violently, and then dashed a tumbler full of water in the sick woman's face.
"What is it? What's the matter?" cried Hannah, rushing into the room.
"I was only talking to her, and she fell right back," responded the young girl.
"Well, let me come, for you look about as pale as she does. Why, I declare! I do believe she's dead or in a swoon. Ring again, miss; will you, for the cook? I'm sure, I don't think mistress can blame me, for I only ran down to do some little chores; and I left her asleep, too."
Mrs. Peasely, the cook, now made her appearance; and a moment after Jane came running gaily up the stairs.
"Why, Helen, what are you crying about?" she said putting her arms round her friend's neck.