“I know how I feel better than Dr. Hayden,” responded Mrs. Ward sullenly. “I am not able to work; I am as weak as a kitten.”
“Staying in bed won’t strengthen you,” answered Mrs. Burnham practically. “Come, be sensible, follow Dr. Hayden’s orders.”
“I shan’t.”
“But, Matilda, you can’t stay in bed——”
“I can, too; until I am strong enough to get up,” with sullen anger. “I need nourishing food and rest. I’ve worked hard all summer, Mrs. Burnham; surely you don’t begrudge me a few crumbs?”
Mrs. Burnham eyed her wrathfully. “You can hardly call your breakfast a ‘few crumbs,’” she retorted, pointing to the empty dishes. “You have licked the platters clean, Matilda,” a spark of humor lighting her eyes. “What nonsense! Of course, I don’t begrudge you all the good cooking you require, and a nurse if necessary; but I do object to your malingering.”
“I am not malingering.”
“Oh, yes, you are,” with stern emphasis. “And I want to know why?”
Mrs. Ward clutched the bedclothes, but a look at Mrs. Burnham’s face made her change her angry answer to a more wheedling tone than she had intended using.
“After all my years of faithful service you come and accuse me of that,” she began. “I wouldn’t ’a’ thought it of you, Mrs. Burnham.” Her face worked and a few tears brimmed over her eyelids and ran down on the coverlet.