“Why, there is no one here but you to-day, now,” he said, with a motion of his head towards the cottage.
“No, because I have let the regular nurse go home for a few hours. Besides, this is a special case. You don't know what a dear old soul Betty is.”
“Yes, I do; I remember her ever since I was a child.”
“Ah, I forgot; I have often heard her talk of you. Then you ought not to be surprised at anything I may do for her.”
“She is a good, kind old woman, I know. But still I must say, Katie, you ought to think of your friends and relations a little, and what you owe to society.”
“Indeed, I do think of my friends and relations very much, and I should have liked, of all things, to have been with you yesterday. You ought to be pitying me, instead of scolding me.”
“My dear Katie, you know I didn't mean to scold you; and nobody admires the way you give yourself up to visiting, and all that sort of thing, more than I; only you ought to have a little pleasure sometimes. People have a right to think of themselves and their own happiness a little.”
“Perhaps I don't find visiting and all that sort of thing so very miserable. But now, Tom, you saw in my letter that poor Betty's son has got into trouble?”
“Yes; and that is what brought on her attack, you said.”
“I believe so. She was in a sad state about him all yesterday,—so painfully eager and anxious. She is better today, but still I think it would do her good if you would see her, and say you will be a friend to her son. Would you mind?”