tions she calmed her beating pulse. "Is that little patient of yours never to get well, doctor?" asked Mr. Ardley one morning, when the physician came into the breakfast-room.
"I cannot answer for it, unless she can have a room with a fire in it."
"Bless me, is she in a cold room all this time?—Mrs. Ardley, my dear, how is that?"
"You know, Mr. Ardley, the servants' rooms have no fireplaces, and she could not have a room with one without turning out one of the family."
"Would she not be better off at home, doctor, even if her family are poor, than in a damp, cold atmosphere?—it must be bad for inflamed lungs."
"It is, undoubtedly; and if the child has a home and a mother, as the day is fine and mild, I should advise her being sent there at once."
So the carriage was ordered; Lucy's wages paid without any deduction for loss of time; a basket with medicines, and another with provisions, put up for her, and Betsy permitted to attend her home. As the carriage drove off, "That's a very good little girl!" said Mrs. Ardley; "I hope she will recover; but, if she does not, what a comfort it will be to think we have done our duty by her?"
"I hope the poor child has not suffered from the cold room; you should have thought of that, Anne."
"My dear, how can I think of everything?"
"I am more dissatisfied with myself than with you at this moment, Anne. I see that it is a shocking neglect of our duty for people of our condition not to provide for the comfort, no, the actual wants of those they employ. I do not wonder servants are always ready to change their places, hoping
