“She must be required at home—her time must be valuable—I cannot offer to pay her,” continued Mr Cheviott, with increasing annoyance in his tone.
“They might be able to spare her. I believe they do keep a servant,” said Mr Brandreth, dryly.
“Nonsense, Brandreth, don’t joke about it,” said Mr Cheviott, irritably. “You must understand what I mean—the extreme annoyance of having to put one’s self under such an obligation to—to—”
“To people you know exceedingly little about, it is clear,” said Mr Brandreth, severely. “If it be a right and Christian thing to do, Mr and Mrs Western will spare their daughter to nurse your sister, Mr Cheviott, just as readily as they spared her to nurse Jessie Bevan when she broke her leg.”
“So Miss Western herself told me,” observed Mr Cheviott.
“Ah, then you have come upon the subject?” said the doctor. “And evidently Miss Mary has rubbed his high mightiness the wrong way,” he added to himself, with an inward chuckle.
“Not exactly. I never thought of having to ask her to stay longer than to-day. All that was said was when I was thanking, or trying to thank, her last night for what she had done, and I suppose I made a mess of it,” said Mr Cheviott, with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Well, I must be going,” said Mr Brandreth, rising as he spoke.
“And what is to be done?” asked Mr Cheviott, helplessly. “Am I to ask her to stay?”
“You are certainly not to send her away,” replied Mr Brandreth, greatly enjoying the situation; till, pitying Mr Cheviott’s discomfort, he added, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do for you. I will tell Mary she is not to leave Miss Cheviott on any account till I see her again in the afternoon, and in the mean time I will see Mrs Western and explain it all to her, and let you know the result. I’ll take it all on myself, if that will comfort you.”