we don't trust half enough.
Remember who it is gives me the cooking to do. Shall I not do what He
gives me? And I can tell you one little secret--I _like_ to do cooking.
Isn't it good?"

Mrs. Copley made a very respectable dinner after all.

This was the manner of the beginning of Mr. Copley's illness. Faith and
courage were well tried as the days went on; for though never violently
ill, he never mended. Day and night the same tedious low fever held
him, wearing down not his strength only but that of the two whose
unaided hands had to manage all that was done. Dolly did not know where
to look for a nurse, and Mrs. Copley was utterly unwilling to have one
called in. She herself roused to the emergency and ceased to complain
about her own troubles; she sat up night after night, with only partial
help from Dolly, who had her hands full with the care of the house and
the day duty and the sick cookery. And as day after day went by, and
night after night was watched through, and days and nights began to run
into weeks, the strength and nervous energy of them both began at times
to fail. Neither showed it to the other, except as pale faces and weary
eyes told their story. Mrs. Copley cried in secret, at night, with her
head on the window-sill; and Dolly went with slow foot to gather her
herbs and vegetables, and sat down sometimes in the porch, in the early
dawn or the evening gloom, and allowed herself to own that things were
looking very dark indeed. The question was, how long would it be
possible to go on as they were doing? how long would strength hold
out?--and money? The doctor's fees took great pinches out of Dolly's
fund; and for the present there was no adding to it. Lady Brierley was
away; she had gone to the seaside. Mrs. Jersey was very kind; fruit and
eggs and vegetables came almost daily from the House to Dolly's help,
and the kind housekeeper herself had offered to sit up with the sick
man; but this offer was refused. Mr. Copley did not like to see any
stranger about him. And Dolly and her mother were becoming now very
tired. As the weeks went on, they ceased to look in each other's faces
any more with questioning eyes; they knew too well how anxiety and
effort had told upon both of them, and each was too conscious of what
the other was thinking and fearing. They did not meet each other's eyes
with those mute demands in them any more; but they stole stealthy
glances sometimes each to see how the other face look