"How 's 't you're so late?" she asked, without looking at the child;
her eyes, as far as one could guess, fixed upon the houses opposite,
her hands in the little pocket on each side of her apron. "Your
mother's poorly."
"Oh, then I shall sleep with her to-night?" exclaimed Ida,
forgetting her trouble for the moment in this happy foresight
"Dessay," returned Mrs. Ledward laconically.
Ida left her still standing in the doorway, and ran stairs. The
chamber she went into--after knocking and receiving permission to
enter, according to the rule which had been impressed upon her--
was a tolerably-furnished bedroom, which, with its bright fire,
tasteful little lamp, white coverlets and general air of fresh
orderliness, made a comfortable appearance. The air was scented,
too, with some pleasant odour of a not too pungent kind. But the
table lacked one customary feature; no tea was laid as it was wont
to be at this hour. The child gazed round in surprise. Her mother
was in bed, lying back on raised pillows, and with a restless,
half-pettish look on her face.
"Where have you been?" she asked querulously, her voice husky and
feeble, as if from a severe cold. "Why are you so late?"
Ida did not answer at once, but went straight to the bed and offered
the accustomed kiss.
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