"Impossible to say. These things are not to be counted upon. May get up in a day or two, but far more likely not in a week or two. Good morning!"
A week or two! Dolly stood and looked after the departing chaise which carried the functionary who gave judgment so easily on matters of life and death. The question came back. What would become of her mother and her, if watching and nursing had to be kept up for weeks?—with all the rest there was to do. Dolly felt very blue for a little while; then she shook it off again and took hold of her work. Nelly had returned by this time, with a knuckle of veal from the butcher's. Dolly put it on, to make the nicest possible delicate stew for her mother; and even for her father she thought the broth might, do. She gathered herbs and vegetables in the garden again, and a messenger came from Mrs. Jersey with a basket of strawberries; Dolly wrote a note to go back with the basket, and altogether had a busy morning of it. For bread had also to be made; and her small helpmate was good for only the simplest details of scrubbing and sweeping and washing dishes. It was with the greatest difficulty after all that Dolly coaxed her mother to come down to dinner; Nelly being left to keep watch the while and call them if anything was wanted.
"I can't eat, Dolly!" Mrs. Copley said, when she was seated at Dolly's board.
"Mother, it is necessary. See—this is what you like, and it is very good, I know. And these potatoes are excellent."
"But, Dolly, he may be sick for weeks, for aught we can tell; it is a low fever. Oh, this is the worst of all we have had yet!" cried Mrs. Copley, wringing her hands.
It did look so, and for a moment Dolly could not speak. Her heart seemed to stand still.
"Mother, we don't know," she said. "We do not know anything. It may be no such matter; it may not last so; the doctor cannot tell; and anyhow, mother, God does know and He will take care. We can trust Him, can't we? and meanwhile what you and I have to do is to keep up our strength and our faith and our spirits. Eat your dinner like a good woman. I am going to make a cup of tea for you. Perhaps father would take some."
"And you," said Mrs. Copley, eyeing her. Dolly had a white kitchen apron on, it is true, but she was otherwise in perfect order and looked very lovely. "What about me?" she said.
"Doing kitchen work! You, who are fit for—something so different!" Mrs. Copley had to get rid of some tears here.
"Doing kitchen work? Yes, certainly, if that is the thing given me to do. Why not? Isn't my veal good? I'll do anything, mother, that comes to hand, provided I can do it. Mother, we don't trust half enough. Remember who it is gives me the cooking to do. Shall I not do what He gives me? And I can tell you one little secret—I like to do cooking. Isn't it good?"