I opened it softly, and found Miss Jellyby shivering there, with a broken candle in a broken candlestick in one hand, and an egg-cup in the other.
"Good-night!" she said, very sulkily.
"Good-night!" said I.
"May I come in?" she shortly and unexpectedly asked me, in the same sulky way.
"Certainly," said I. "Don't wake Miss Clare."
She would not sit down, but stood by the fire, dipping her inky middle finger in the egg-cup, which contained vinegar, and smearing it over the ink stains on her face; frowning, the whole time, and looking very gloomy.
"I wish Africa was dead!" she said, on a sudden.
I was going to remonstrate.
"I do!" she said. "Don't talk to me, Miss Summerson. I hate it and detest it. It's a beast!"
I told her she was tired, and I was sorry. I put my hand upon her head, and touched her forehead, and said it was hot now, but would be cool to-morrow. She still stood, pouting and frowning at me; but presently put down her egg-cup, and turned softly toward the bed where Ada lay.