“By study I mean that you have had a wide opportunity to observe human nature,” explained Lucy.
“If by human nature you mean folks, I have,” Melvina said in her habitual monotone.
After answering the remark, however, she made no further attempt at conversation but lapsed into a patient silence, regarding Lucy with her big, faded blue eyes. As she stood there, one gained an impression that she could have stood thus for an indefinite length of 217 time—forever, if necessary. Not once did her gaze wander to her surroundings, and when Lucy conducted her to the room that had been assigned her she entered it without curiosity.
“I hope you will be comfortable here,” the girl murmured with a hostess’s solicitude.
“I shall be.”
“And if there is anything you want——”
“I’ll ask for it.”
Although there was no rebuke in the utterance, before this monument of composure, Lucy, like David Copperfield in the presence of the waiter, suddenly felt very young.
“Thank you; I wish you would,” she managed to stammer, hastily closing the door.
She reflected with amusement, as she made her retreat, that there were several things she had intended to caution the new nurse not to mention, one being that it was Martin Howe who had brought her hither. But after having once seen Melvina Grey, such warnings became superfluous and absurd. There was no more probability of Melvina’s imparting to Ellen the circumstances of her coming than there was of the rocks on the mountain side breaking into speech and voicing their past history. Therefore she crept downstairs to the 218 kitchen to prepare supper, pondering as she went as to how Ellen and this strangely stolid attendant would get on together.