“My hand is a little burned, I think,” said Mrs. McNab quietly. She held out her left palm, on which big blisters were already forming.
“Oh, I am a beast!” uttered Judy. “Mother, dear, I’m so sorry! It’s all my silly fault. Is it very bad?”
“It is rather painful,” Mrs. McNab admitted. She swayed a little, and I put my arm round her.
“Do sit down,” I begged. “I’ll run in for dressings.”
“No, I am quite able to come with you,” she said. “There is no need to alarm anyone. Just give me your arm, and I will walk slowly.”
We gained the house unseen, a sorry little procession, and Mrs. McNab sent the disconsolate youngsters to bed while I dressed and bandaged her hand. The burns were painful enough, but not serious; my patient made light of them, and refused any stimulant except coffee, which she permitted me to prepare for her, after some argument. We drank it together, in the kitchen.
“Being bandaged is the worst infliction,” she said. “I do not take kindly to being even partly helpless. I shall have to ask your assistance in dressing, I am afraid, Miss Earle. It is fortunate that I conformed to the fashion and had my hair cut—not that I might be in the fashion, needless to say, but because I was thankful to be relieved of the weight of my hair. It sadly hampered my work, and I have never regretted that I sacrificed it, even though I have heard Judith remark that I now resemble a turkey-hen.”
This was one of the remarks to which there seemed no tactful reply. At any rate, I had none handy, so I merely murmured that I should be delighted to assist in her toilet.
“I will not ask you to come up to the Tower rooms,” she said. “Perhaps you will allow me to come to your room when I need a little help. I should be glad, too, if nothing is said about the children’s escapade. They have had a very severe fright, and I do not want them blamed by the household. There is an old proverb about ‘a dog with a bad name’—and I cannot but feel that my poor Judith and Jack have suffered by their mother’s absorption in her work for some years. My daughter Beryl’s remarks about to-night’s occurrence would certainly be very severe. I think we may spare them any further punishment, Miss Earle.”
“I’m awfully glad,” I said—forgetting, in my haste, that well-brought-up governesses do not say ‘awfully.’ Luckily Mrs. McNab appeared not to notice my lapse. “They are very sorry, I know. May I tell them, Mrs. McNab?”