“She looks rather pale, Miss Ladd.”
“It’s more serious than that, Francine. The servants tell me that she has hardly any appetite. She herself acknowledges that she sleeps badly. I noticed her yesterday evening in the garden, under the schoolroom window. One of the girls dropped a dictionary. She started at that slight noise, as if it terrified her. Her nerves are seriously out of order. Can you prevail upon her to see the doctor?”
Francine hesitated—and made an excuse. “I think she would be much more likely, Miss Ladd, to listen to you. Do you mind speaking to her?”
“Certainly not!”
Mrs. Ellmother was immediately sent for. “What is your pleasure, miss?” she said to Francine.
Miss Ladd interposed. “It is I who wish to speak to you, Mrs. Ellmother. For some days past, I have been sorry to see you looking ill.”
“I never was ill in my life, ma’am.”
Miss Ladd gently persisted. “I hear that you have lost your appetite.”
“I never was a great eater, ma’am.”
It was evidently useless to risk any further allusion to Mrs. Ellmother’s symptoms. Miss Ladd tried another method of persuasion. “I daresay I may be mistaken,” she said; “but I do really feel anxious about you. To set my mind at rest, will you see the doctor?”