"I beg your pardon, Angel; I didn't mean to seem to pry."
"No harm done that I know of; bones aren't broke by questions." She folded the tablecloth. As she placed it in its drawer, and her back was turned to Nora, she said, as with an effort, "Mother's paralyzed."
"Paralyzed? Oh, Angel, I'm so sorry; where is she?"
Miss Gibb faced round, again all battle.
"Where is she? This is her own house, isn't it? In whose house do you suppose she'd be if she wasn't in her own? I can't think what you mean by keeping on asking where is she?"
Nora was properly meek.
"You see, I only asked because I never hear her moving about; I never hear any one but you, and Eustace."
"Mean I make a clatter?"
"Angel! you know I don't. You are nearly, as quiet as a mouse; but your mother is so very quiet. I hope the paralysis is only slight."
"That's the trouble, it isn't. It's been coming on for years; during the last three years it's been downright bad; and during the last twelve months she's hardly been able to move so much as a finger."