"Doan' you 'member, honey, how you useter like dese heah hy'cints, an' plague yo' mammy when you wuz little ter plant 'em fur you?"
"Yes, I remember," said Jacqueline, calmly.
Judith and Mrs. Temple were present. Dr. Wortley said nothing about Jacqueline's refusing to eat, but talked away, telling all the neighborhood gossip. Then, in a careless way, he felt for Jacqueline's pulse and listened to the beating of her heart. Both were so faint that Dr. Wortley's eyes became grave. After he left the room, he beckoned to Mrs. Temple to follow him. Delilah came, too.
"Marse Doctor, she ain' tech nuttin' but a leetle bit o' toast an' tea since yistiddy, an' it wan' 'nough to keep a bird 'live, let 'lone a human."
Dr. Wortley wheeled round on his old enemy and snapped out:
"If you'll just use some of your persuasive eloquence and stuff her up with jellies and custards as you do your master when he ought to be living on tea and toast, she'll be all right."
Delilah flounced back into Jacqueline's room, her head-handkerchief bobbing about angrily. Mrs. Temple being present, she could not retaliate on Dr. Wortley.
"But, doctor," said Mrs. Temple, trembling strangely, "this is so unlike Jacqueline. I don't know what has been the matter with her lately. She isn't grieving for Throckmorton, but something is on her mind, that is--that is--"
The doctor waited, thinking Mrs. Temple would finish what she was saying. But she did not. This was, indeed, unlike Jacqueline--unlike any instance Dr. Wortley, in his simple experience, had ever known.
"Let her alone for a few days," he said. "We will see."
At the end of a few days Jacqueline had indeed consented to take enough food to keep life in her, but she had lost ground frightfully. Her round, girlish face was sharp and pinched.
Judith tried persuasion, to which Jacqueline responded, "How can I eat anything, when all night long I cry and cry, thinking of the hard-hearted people who--"
"Mise Judy," said Delilah, after a while, "I lay on de pallet by de baid, an' all night long I heah her cryin', jes' cryin' quiet--she doan' make no noise. I say: 'What de matter, honey? Tell yo' ole mammy dat nuss you?' an' she make 'tense den she 'sleep. But I know she ain' 'sleep--she jest distrusted at de way dem folks treat her at that ungordly party at Tuckey Thicket."