esponsibility being cook's or Jane's. "You mustn't think of getting
up, mother."

"Oh, nonsense! I shall get up the minute the hot water comes."

"You won't do any good by getting up. You had much better lie in bed.
_I_ shouldn't get up, if I was you," etc., etc.

"Oh, stuff! My rheumatism's better. Do you know, I really think the
ring _has_ done it good. Dr. Vereker may laugh as much as he
likes----"

"Well, the proof of the pudding's in the eating. But wait till you
see how thick the snow is. _Come--in!_" This is very staccato. Jane
was knocking at the door with cans of really hot water this time.
"I said come in before. Merry Christmas and happy New Year, Jane!...
Oh, I say! What a dear little robin! He's such a little duck, I hope
that cat won't get him!" And Sally, who is huddled up in a thick
dressing-gown and is shivering, is so excited that she goes on
looking through the blind, and the peep-hole she has had to make to
see clear through the frosted pane, in spite of the deadly cold on the
finger-tip she rubbed it with. Her mother felt interested, too, in the
fate of the robin, but not to the extent of impairing her last two
minutes in bed by admitting the slightest breath of cold air inside a
well-considered fortress. She was really going to get up, though, that
was flat! The fire would blaze directly, although at this moment it
was blowing wood-smoke down Jane's throat, and making her choke.

Directly was five or six minutes, but the fire did blaze up royally in
the end. You see, it wasn't a slow-combustion-grate, and it burned too
much fuel, and flared away the coal, and did all sorts of comfortable,
uneconomical things. So did Jane, who had put in a whole bundle of
wood.

But now that the wood was past praying for, and Jane had departed,
after thawing the hearts of two sponges, it was just as well to take
advantage of the blaze while it lasted. And Mrs. Nightingale and her
daughter, in the thickest available dressing-gowns, and pretending
they were not taking baths only because the bath-room was thrown out
of gear by the frost, took advantage of the said blaze to their
heart's content and harked back--a good way back--on the conversation.

"You never said 'Come in,' chick."

"I _did_, mother! Well, if I didn't, at any rate, I always tell her
not to knock. She is the stupidest girl. She _will_ knock!" Her mother
doesn't press the point. There is no bad blood anywhere. Did not Sally
wish the handmaide