and the hearse is to have two horses, but not the
coaches, ma'am. He's asleep just now, ma'am, and I'm watching him, but
Miss Rose is resting on Miss Milly's bed in case, so I can come in here
for a minute or two. He told the doctor and master that Miss Myatt was
took with one of them attacks at half-past eleven o'clock, and he went
for Dr. Adams as lives at the top of Oldcastle Street. Dr. Adams wasn't
in, and then he saw a cab--it must have been coming from the ball,
ma'am, but Mr. Myatt didn't know as there was any ball--and he drove up
to Hillport for Dr. Hawley, him being the family doctor. And then he
said he felt bad-like, and he thought he'd come here and send master
across the way for Dr. Hawley. And he got out of the cab and paid the
cabman, and then he doesn't remember no more. Wasn't it dreadful, ma'am?
I don't believe he rightly knew what he was doing, the poor old
gentleman!'

Leonora listened. 'Where are Miss Ethel and Miss Milly?' she asked.

'Master said they was to go to Oldcastle to order mourning, ma'am.
They've but just gone. And master said he should be back himself about
six. He never slept a wink, ma'am; nor even sat down. He just had his
bath, and Miss Ethel crept in here for his clothes.'

'And have you been to bed, Bessie?'

'Me? No, ma'am. What should I go to bed for? I'm as well as well, ma'am.
Miss Milly slept in Miss Rose's bedroom, for a bit, and Miss Ethel on
the sofy in the drawing-room--not as you might call that sleeping. Miss
Rose said you was to have some tea before you got up, ma'am. Shall I
tell cook to get it now?'

'I really think I should prefer to have it downstairs, Bessie, thanks,'
said Leonora.

'Very well, ma'am. But Miss Rose said----'

'Yes, but I will have it downstairs. In three-quarters of an hour, say.'

'Very well, ma'am. Now is there anything I can do for you, ma'am?'

While dressing, very placidly and deliberately, and while thinking upon
all the multitudinous things that seemed to have happened in her world
during her long slumber, Leonora dwelt too upon the extraordinary loving
kindness of this hireling, who got twenty pounds a year, half-a-day a
week, and a day a month. On the first of every month Leonora handed to
Bessie one paltry sovereign, thirteen shillings, and the odd fourpence
in coppers. She wondered fancifully if she would have the effrontery to
requite the girl in coin on the next pay-day; and she was filled with a
sense of the goodness of