Nell rose with a headache.
"I never," said she, "owned such a thing at home!"
She went to the window and looked out. A dingy grey fog hung over everything; the garden walls were wet.
"The fourth day that has been foggy and raw and liquid with mud!"
Sheila Pat trotted back into the room, her small face pinched, her teeth shut tight to prevent their chattering.
"Sheila Pat, you've had a cold bath!"
"I let the hot tap run a minute."
"And the hot water was tepid. Come here."
"I'm busy, Nell."
Nell went across and seized the shivering little body. Even through the bath-robe she could feel how cold it was. She started rubbing her down with a rough towel.