"Will you tell me, please, have you a sister?" she said. The young woman stood still in astonishment. "Or—any friend like yourself? I—I am a stranger from America." The look of surprise changed to one of curiosity. "And it is right hard to go about alone with my baby, so I thought I would ask you if you have a sister."
"Is it to the country you wish to go, ma'm?" The baby in her arms stirred, and the nurse swayed gently back and forth to hush it.
"Yes."
"I couldn't go with you myself, ma'm—but—"
"Oh, no! I didn't mean you. I only thought if you had a sister—or a friend, maybe, who could help me for a little while."
"I saw you this morning, ma'm, as you went out. I'll see what I can do. What number is your room? and what name? I mustn't talk here. Mrs. Darling is very particular."
"Oh, never mind, then." Cassandra turned away in sudden shame lest she had not done the right thing. The nurse watched her return to her room as swiftly as she had left it, and took note of the number.
"How very odd!" said the young woman to herself.
Cassandra felt more abashed under the round-eyed gaze of the maid than if she had encountered the queen. Her ring for a messenger had not been answered, and she did not know how to find her husband's country-seat. She felt faint and weary, but did not think of hunger, nor that it was long past the dinner-hour, and that she had eaten nothing since her early breakfast. She only thought that she must be brave and try—try to think how to reach David's people.