"Don't come, therefore, for that reason," said the note, "but,
nevertheless, do come as quickly as you can, for the whole house is
sad without you." On the morning after the receipt of this note Lucy
was sitting, as was now usual with her, beside an old arm-chair to
which her patient had lately been promoted. The fever had gone, and
Mrs. Crawley was slowly regaining her strength--very slowly, and with
frequent caution from the Silverbridge doctor that any attempt at
being well too fast might again precipitate her into an abyss of
illness and domestic inefficiency.
"I really think I can get about to-morrow," said she; "and then, dear
Lucy, I need not keep you longer from your home."
"You are in a great hurry to get rid of me, I think. I suppose Mr.
Crawley has been complaining again about the cream in his tea."
Mr. Crawley had on one occasion stated his assured conviction that
surreptitious daily supplies were being brought into the house,
because he had detected the presence of cream instead of milk in his
own cup. As, however, the cream had been going for sundry days before
this, Miss Robarts had not thought much of his ingenuity in making
the discovery.
"Ah, you do not know how he speaks of you when your back is turned."
"And how does he speak of me? I know you would not have the courage
to tell me the whole.
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