"Nonsense," briskly. "I've brought Betty back with me, and she's going to stay and see that you're made comfortable."
Miss Matthews' face brightened. "She's the only person in the world that I'd have fussing over me."
"I shall stay here and boss you to my heart's content," Bettina told her.
"Oh, dear," Miss Matthews sighed rapturously, "how good that sounds. I—I want to be bossed. I'm so tired of telling other people what to do—that last day at school I thought I should go to pieces."
"Well, you're not going to pieces," Anthony assured her; "you're going to bed. And when I come back I shall expect to find you asleep."
Bettina, coaxing Miss Matthews to be comfortable, brushed her hair in front of the revived fire.
"What pretty hair you have," she said, as she held it up so that the light might shine upon it. "What makes you spoil it by doing it up in that tight knot?"
"I don't know any other way," wailed Miss Matthews. "I've never had time to be pretty."
"I'm going to braid it," said Bettina, "and by evening it will be waved."
Miss Matthews submitted, luxuriously. "It seems so nice to have some one fussing over me. I don't believe anybody ever brushed my hair before."