“I believe—I am afraid—I am going to be ill.”
“Well, Miss Amory, ’f you be, you shall be well taken care of. I’ll tend ye myself, nights; and if there’s anything you want that can be got, why, Elsie’ll get it for ye.”
“And is there a physician?”
“Oh, yes’m; Elsie’s gone for one now. They’ll be here in an hour or two.”
“In all this snow?”
“Oh, we don’t mind that, ma’am. Get used to it, you know. The road’s been broke out clean up t’ the village, they say, so ’s ’t the pung’ll go well enough.”
“Where are Mrs. Walton and the children? And—please don’t call me ma’am.”
’Lisbeth smiled good-humoredly: “I won’t, if you won’t call me ‘Mis’ Eldridge.’ ’T always makes me feel ’s if I must talk just so straight when anybody calls me that. My name’s ’Lisbeth; and if you’ll call me so, why, I’ll call you Florence,—the boy told me your name,—and so we’ll feel better acquainted. Oh, the others? Why, they went along up t’ the Hill, to spend Christmas with their folks, about noon to-day. She said you was to stay here till you felt better, if we could keep you. And we can.”
