“Thank you, Miss,” exclaimed Somers gratefully, then her mind reverted to Martha. “She wouldn’t be so bad, if she wasn’t so—so—” casting about for a proper word to express her opinion—“so creepy; and those eyes of hers!” with a shudder. “They give me the horrors.”
Miriam smiled, not unkindly. Somers was typical of her class—intelligent, unimaginative, a trifle garrulous and a lover of routine, with a dislike for anything out of the ordinary. And she had come to Abbott’s Lodge! Miriam’s smile deepened. Judging by her own experiences, the maid was reasonably certain to encounter the unusual if she remained long in attendance on Mrs. Nash.
Somers’ honest, comely face grew troubled and she straightened up with a jerk. “I must be getting back to Mrs. Nash,” she said. “If you don’t mind, Miss, I’ll leave the linen here and put it away later in my room.”
“How is Mrs. Nash?” asked Miriam, and the maid paused with her hand on the door.
“She was asleep when I left her,” responded Somers. “Excuse me, but aren’t you Miss Ward?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so,” and Somers nodded sagely. “Mrs. Nash has told me what you have done for her. She is very fond of you, Miss, and,” lowering her voice, “Mrs. Nash can be a very good friend, as well as”—her voice sank to an even lower key—“a good hater.”
Miriam eyed the maid in some perplexity. Was her snap-judgment wrong and Somers, instead of a staid, middle-aged Englishwoman, a lover of romance?
Somers gave her no time for reflection. With a murmured word of thanks she went into the hall and closed the door. Miriam walked over to her bureau and consulted her watch—nearly five o’clock. She was in no mood to return to bed. Pulling her dressing gown around her, she prepared a hot bath and, half an hour later, refreshed and invigorated, she stood staring down at her white uniform. Should she put it on, or her house dress? The nurse, sent out from Washington to relieve her, would surely get there in time to go on night duty. If Somers had gotten to Abbott’s Lodge so promptly, it would only be a matter of a few hours for the nurse to report for duty. Miriam laid aside her clean uniform and put on her house dress. She had completed her toilet when Martha appeared at the door.
“Please, Miss—Ma’am, Doctor Roberts wishes to see you downstairs,” she explained, with characteristic haste. “Say, ain’t them lovely?” observing an oddly wrought gold necklace which Miriam slipped inside her gown. “Rubies, ain’t they?”