CHAPTER SEVENTH.
BETTER THINGS.
"Ah, if Miss Schomberg had asked me to wait on _her_, how gladly would I
have done it, night after night, day after day, and should have thought
myself well paid with a smile; but to sit up all night with a person,
who cares no more for me, than I for her, and that is nothing! and then
to have to get down to-morrow and attend to the shop, all the same as if
I had slept well, is no joke. Oh, dear me! how sleepy I am, two o'clock!
I was to change those rags at two; I really scarcely dare attempt it,
she seems so irritable now." So soliloquized Lucy, who, kindhearted as
she was, could not be expected to take quite so much delight in nursing
her cross mistress, who never befriended her, as she would have done a
kinder, gentler person; but Lucy read her Bible, and she had been
trying, though not so long as Emilie, nor always so successfully it
must be owned, to live as though she read it.
"Miss Webster, ma'am, the doctor said those rags were to be changed
every two hours. May I do it for you? I can't do it as well as Miss
Schomberg, but I will do my very best not to hurt you.
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