IV

Nurse Hopkins was in the pantry. She was wiping her face with a handkerchief. She looked upsharply as Elinor entered. She said:

“My word, it’s hot in here!”

Elinor answered mechanically:

“Yes, the pantry faces south.”

Nurse Hopkins relieved her of the tray.

“You let me wash up, Miss Carlisle. You’re not looking quite the thing.”

Elinor said:

“Oh, I’m all right.”

She picked up a dishcloth.

“I’ll dry.”

Nurse Hopkins slipped off her cuffs¹. She poured hot water from the kettle into the papier-m?chébasin.

Elinor said idly, looking at her wrist:

“You’ve pricked² yourself.”

Nurse Hopkins laughed.

“On the rose trellis at the Lodge³—a thorn. I’ll get it out presently.”

The rose trellis at the Lodge… Memory poured in waves over Elinor. She and Roddyquarrelling—the Wars of the Roses. She and Roddy quarrelling—and making it up. Lovely,laughing, happy days. A sick wave of revulsion passed over her. What had she come to now?

What black abyss of hate—of evil… She swayed a little as she stood.

She thought:

“I’ve been mad—quite mad.”

Nurse Hopkins was staring at her curiously⁴.

“Downright odd, she seemed…” so ran Nurse Hopkins’ narrative⁵ later. “Talking as if she didn’tknow what she was saying, and her eyes so bright and queer.”

The cups and saucers rattled⁶ in the basin. Elinor picked up an empty fish paste pot from thetable and put it into the basin. As she did so she said, and marvelled⁷ at the steadiness of her voice:

“I’ve sorted out some clothes upstairs, Aunt Laura’s things. I thought, perhaps, Nurse, youcould advise me where they would be useful in the village.”

Nurse Hopkins said briskly:

“I will indeed. There’s Mrs. Parkinson, and old Nellie, and that poor creature who’s not quite allthere at Ivy⁸ Cottage. Be a godsend to them.”

She and Elinor cleared up the pantry. Then they went upstairs together.

In Mrs. Welman’s room clothes were folded in neat bundles: underclothing, dresses, and certainarticles of handsome clothing, velvet⁹ tea gowns, a musquash coat. The latter, Elinor explained, shethought of giving to Mrs. Bishop¹⁰. Nurse Hopkins nodded assent¹¹.

She noticed that Mrs. Welman’s sables¹² were laid on the chest of drawers.

“Going to have them remodelled¹³ for herself,” she thought to herself.

She cast a look at the big tallboy. She wondered if Elinor had found that photograph signed“Lewis,” and what she had made of it, if so.

“Funny,” she thought to herself, “the way O’Brien’s letter crossed mine. I never dreamt a thinglike that could happen. Her hitting on that photo just the day I wrote to her about Mrs. Slattery.”

She helped Elinor sort through the clothing and volunteered to tie it up in separate bundles forthe different families and see to their distribution herself.

She said:

“I can be getting on with that while Mary goes down to the Lodge and finishes up there. She’sonly got a box of papers to go through. Where is the girl, by the way? Did she go down to theLodge?”

Elinor said:

“I left her in the morning room….”

Nurse Hopkins said:

“She’d not be there all this time.” She glanced at her watch. “Why, it’s nearly an hour we’vebeen up here!”

She bustled¹⁴ down the stairs. Elinor followed her.

They went into the morning room.

Nurse Hopkins exclaimed:

“Well, I never, she’s fallen asleep.”

Mary Gerrard was sitting in a big armchair by the window. She had dropped down a little in it.

There was a queer sound in the room: stertorous¹⁵, laboured breathing.

Nurse Hopkins went across and shook the girl.

“Wake up, my dear—”

She broke off. She bent¹⁶ lower, pulled down an eyelid¹⁷. Then she started shaking the girl in grimearnest.

She turned on Elinor. There was something menacing in her voice as she said:

“What’s all this?”

Elinor said:

“I don’t know what you mean. Is she ill?”

Nurse Hopkins said:

“Where’s the phone? Get hold of Dr. Lord as soon as you can.”

Elinor said:

“What’s the matter?”

“The matter? The girl’s ill. She’s dying.”

Elinor recoiled¹⁸ a step.

“Dying?”

Nurse Hopkins said:

“She’s been poisoned….”

Her eyes, hard with suspicion, glared at Elinor.

 

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