“And a letter—such a nice one—and some warm stockings of her own knitting from my kind old friend Mrs. Bond,” concluded Floy.
“How splendid!” said Hetty. “You shall sit here and answer it, and the other if you like, while I see about dinner; and this afternoon we’ll take a walk and look at the fine things in the shop windows.”
CHAPTER XXIV.
GILDED MISERY.
“Thinking will make me mad: why must I think
When no thought brings me comfort?”
Madame Le Conte was suffering from her imprudent exposure on Christmas-eve. She had taken cold, and her increased difficulty of breathing had robbed both herself and Mary of the greater part of their night’s rest.
The gift of a black silk dress and a few trinkets mollified the maid’s ill-humor, but Madame was sadly depressed in spirit.