“Of course she is, Hetty; but what do you mean by that?” asked the aunt sharply.
“That she isn’t getting sleep enough, or fresh air or exercise enough; that this work, work, work, from early morning until late at night, is breaking down her health, and we’ll have to manage differently as far as she’s concerned, or we’ll have her dying on our hands.”
“Dear me, Het,” in a vexed tone, “you have a way of putting things so strongly, and in such a sudden fashion too, that I declare it nearly knocks one down! She’s no more overworked than you or I.”
“Perhaps not; but we’re used to it, and naturally stronger, I think. Besides, we don’t sit so steadily, but are here and there, all over the house, and in and out too, shopping or marketing.”
“Well, it can’t be helped while we’re so driven with work.”
“Better spare her for an hour or two every day now than lose her services for weeks or maybe altogether.”
Mrs. Sharp tossed the dress on to the counter and sat down with her hands folded in her lap. For a moment she seemed lost in thought, her countenance expressing a good deal of annoyance.
“I generally send Annie Jones home with finished work,” she said presently, “because she’s not good for much else; but if Miss Kemper is really in such pressing need of air and exercise, she may take that duty sometimes. I don’t believe, though, that she’ll be willing; she is too high in her notions.”
“She is a lady, and would of course feel it somewhat of a trial to her pride,” said Hetty, “but I believe she is too sensible and right-minded to refuse, when it’s so necessary for her health.”
“Well, we’ll see.”