Mr. Haberton, immersed in affairs, had little time to consider his daughter's whims. Mrs. Haberton, long an invalid, was too much occupied in battling with her own ailments, and bearing the pain which was her daily lot, to feel acute sympathy with Claudia's woes.
"My dear," she said one day, when her daughter had been more than commonly eloquent upon the want of purpose in her life, "why don't you think of some occupation?"
"But what occupation?" said Claudia. "Here I am at home, with everything around me, and no wants to supply——"
"That is something," put in Mrs. Haberton.
"Oh, yes, people always tell you that; but after all, wouldn't it be better to have life to face, and to——"
"Poor dear!" said Mrs. Haberton, stroking her daughter's cheek with a thin hand.
"Please don't, mamma," said Claudia; "you know how I dislike being petted like a child."
"My dear," said Mrs. Haberton, "I feel my pain again; do give me my medicine."
She had asked for it a quarter of an hour before, but Claudia had forgotten so trivial a matter in the statement of her own woes. Now she looked keenly at her mother to see if this request was but an attempt to create a diversion. But the drawn look was sufficient. She hastily measured out the medicine, and as hastily left the room saying, "I will send Pinsett to you at once."
Pinsett was Mrs. Haberton's maid, who was speedily upon the spot to deal with the invalid.