And Alice with gentle insistence led her companion down to the parlour.
“And where, miss, have you been all this precious time?” asked Mrs. Malling, when the two girls reached the parlour. “Sleeping, I’ll be bound, to judge by them spectacles around your eyes. There’s no git-up about young folk now-a-days,” she went on, turning to Sarah. “Six hours’ sleep for healthy-minded women, I says; not an hour more nor an hour less. Sister Emma was allus one o’ them for her sy-esta.” Then she turned back to Prudence. “Maybe she learned you, my girl.”
“I haven’t been sleeping, mother,” Prudence protested, taking her place at the table. “I don’t feel very well.”
“Ah, you don’t say so,” exclaimed the old lady, all anxiety at once. “An’ why didn’t you tell me before? Now maybe you’ve got a touch o’ the sun?”
“Have you been faint and giddy?” asked Sarah, fixing her quiet eyes upon the girl’s face.
“No, I don’t think so. I’ve got a headache––nothing more.”
“Ah; cold bath and lemon soda,” observed her mother practically.
“Tea, and be left alone,” suggested Sarah.
“‘Nature designs all human ills, but in the making Suggests the cure which best is for the taking.’”