“No, miss. When I did get to sleep I was troubled by dreams. Another bad night—and no mistake!”
“I suspect your mind is not quite at ease,” Francine suggested.
“Why do you suspect that, if you please?”
“You talked, when I met you at Miss Emily’s, of wanting to get away from your own thoughts. Has the change to this place helped you?”
“It hasn’t helped me as I expected. Some people’s thoughts stick fast.”
“Remorseful thoughts?” Francine inquired.
Mrs. Ellmother held up her forefinger, and shook it with a gesture of reproof. “I thought we agreed, miss, that there was to be no pumping.”
The business of the toilet proceeded in silence.
A week passed. During an interval in the labors of the school, Miss Ladd knocked at the door of Francine’s room.
“I want to speak to you, my dear, about Mrs. Ellmother. Have you noticed that she doesn’t seem to be in good health?”