"Ya'as. She be to whome, an' young meastress too. A' be seek wi sha'aking ague. I'm thinkin' she'll be right glad to see you, Dorothy Cha'ance." And the team moved on, and poor Dolly, more ashamed of her errand than ever, went into the house.
She found that the younger Mrs. Barford was not in from the field, but an old crone, who was rocking the cradle, told her "to go straight up to the old woman's chamber," and Dorothy, glad to escape from the farmer and his men, went up accordingly.
She found the sick woman wrapped up in a warm dressing-gown, reclining languidly in a large easy chair. She was a fine looking woman of sixty, but the disagreeable disease under which she was labouring, rendered her sallow and hollow-eyed, and added a ghastly lengthiness to her straight features.
She received Dorothy with much kindness; bade her sit down and tell her the news; and how they all were at Heath Farm; and why she (Dorothy) had taken such a long walk in the heat of the day, and at such a busy time; adding, with great self-complacency, "that she supposed her old friend, Mary Rushmere, had heard she was ill, and had sent Dorothy to learn how she was."
Dorothy was obliged to undeceive her on that point, though she expressed great concern to find her unable to leave her chamber, and, encouraged by the friendly countenance of the invalid, she explained the cause of her visit, and offered her services gratis, in return for the protection of a home.
Mrs. Barford, who knew the value of those services to her former employers, not only accepted them with great satisfaction, but promised to remunerate them as they deserved.
"Take off your things, Dorothy, and make yourself contented. It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good. Letty has just had another baby, and her dairy-maid got married and left at this busy time, and I'm sick and good for naught. I look upon your coming as a special providence, for every body knows what a good industrious girl you be."
"I will try my very best to serve you," said Dorothy. "I am a good nurse, and it will give me much pleasure to wait upon you. I never had the ague, but I am sure it must be a weary thing."
"The fit has just left me, Dorothy. I feel better now. You must tell me that story again. So Rushmere did not wish his son to marry you?"