Mrs. Susan Sharpe turned to her with a singular smile—a smile that made luminous the sallow face and glorified the green spectacles.
Just then the stairs creaked under a cautious, ascending tread.
"It's Sally," said Mrs. Sharpe, not moving a muscle. "Eat your supper, and keep your eyes off the window if she comes in. Keep up heart, and think of the word on the blue banner—hope."
She turned away and abruptly opened the door as she spoke. There stood old Sally, with the eyes of a watching cat.
"Oh, dear me!" exclaimed the ancient handmaiden of Mrs. Oleander, very much discomposed by this abrupt proceeding. "How you do startle a body with your quick ways! Is Mrs. Oleander in here?"
"No," said Susan. "How could Mrs. Oleander be here when I left her, five minutes ago, half crazy with toothache?"
"Well, she left the kitchen after you, and came up, and I thought she might have dropped in to see the young woman," fibbed Sally. "How is she?"
"Suppose you drop in and see for yourself," responded the nurse, provoked into being pert to her elders. "Miss Dane, here's a visitor for you."
Mollie turned round from the table, where she sat taking her evening meal.
"I don't want you or your visitors, Mrs. Sharpe, if that be your name," said the irascible patient. "You're all a set of old tabby cats together, and if you don't clear out, I'll fling something at your head!"