“Oh, Mrs. Peddar, I am so sleepy. I feel as if I wanted to sleep, sleep, sleep. I can’t think what’s the matter.”
Mrs. Peddar was regarding her with inquisitive looks, in which, however, there was sympathy as well.
“You’re tired, miss; that’s what the matter is with you. A good night’s rest will do you good; you shall have it if you’ll come with me, and as comfortable a bed as you ever slept in.”
“You’ll be all right with Mrs. Peddar,” I said; for the girl seemed to hesitate. “You could not be in safer keeping, or in kinder hands.”
“Cannot I stay here?”
I looked at Mrs. Peddar; Mrs. Peddar looked at me. It was she who answered.
“I think, miss, you will be more comfortable if you come with me. You see, Mr. Ferguson lives alone.”
“But where shall you be?”
The anxious tone in which the girl put the question, and the appealing gesture with which it was accompanied, afforded me an unreasonable amount of pleasure.
“I shall be here, not so very far away from you; and, the first thing in the morning, I will come to learn how you have slept.”