“Yes, of course. And we know that she likes Nurse O’Brien and is well looked after. All the same, perhaps we have been a bit slack. I’m talking now not from the money point of view—but the sheer human one.”
Elinor nodded.
“I know.”
“So that filthy letter has done some good, after all! We’ll go down to protect our interests and because we’re fond of the old dear!”
He lit a match and set fire to the letter which he took from Elinor’s hand.
“Wonder who wrote it?” he said. “Not that it matters… Someone who was ‘on our side,’ as we used to say when we were kids. Perhaps they’ve done us a good turn, too. Jim Partington’s mother went out to the Riviera to live, had a handsome young Italian doctor to attend her, became quite crazy about him and left him every penny she had. Jim and his sisters tried to upset the will, but couldn’t.”
Elinor said:
“Aunt Laura likes the new doctor who’s taken over Dr. Ransome’s practice—but not to that extent! Anyway, that horrid letter mentioned a girl. It must be Mary.”
Roddy said:
“We’ll go down and see for ourselves….”
II
Nurse O’Brien rustled out of Mrs. Welman’s bedroom and into the bathroom. She said over her shoulder:
“I’ll just pop the kettle on. You could do with a cup of tea before you go on, I’m sure, Nurse.”
Nurse Hopkins said comfortably:
“Well, dear, I can always do with a cup of tea. I always say there’s nothing like a nice cup of tea—a strong cup!”
Nurse O’Brien said as she filled the kettle and lit the gas ring:
“I’ve got everything here in this cupboard—teapot and cups and sugar—and Edna brings me up fresh milk twice a day. No need to be forever ringing bells. ’Tis a fine gas ring, this; boils a kettle in a flash.”
Nurse O’Brien was a tall red-haired woman of thirty with flashing white teeth, a freckled face and an engaging smile. Her cheerfulness and vitality made her a favourite with her patients. Nurse Hopkins, the District Nurse who came every morning to assist with the bed making and toilet of the heavy old lady, was a homely-looking middle-aged woman with a capable air and a brisk manner.
She said now approvingly:
“Everything’s very well-done in this house.”
The other nodded.
“Yes, old-fashioned, some of it, no central heating, but plenty of fires and all the maids are very obliging girls and Mrs. Bishop looks after them well.”
Nurse Hopkins said:
“These girls nowadays—I’ve no patience with ’em—don’t know what they want, most of them—and can’t do a decent day’s work.”
“Mary Gerrard’s a nice girl,” said Nurse O’Brien. “I really don’t know what Mrs. Welman would do without her. You saw how she asked for her now? Ah, well, she’s a lovely creature, I will say, and she’s got a way with her.”
Nurse Hopkins said:
“I’m sorry for Mary. That old father of hers does his best to spite the girl.”
“Not a civil word in his head, the old curmudgeon,” said Nurse O’Brien. “There, the kettle’s singing. I’ll wet the tea as soon as it comes to the boil.”
The tea was made and poured, hot and strong. The two nurses sat with it in Nurse O’Brien’s room next door to Mrs. Welman’s bedroom.
“Mr. Welman and Miss Carlisle are coming down,” said Nurse O’Brien. “There was a telegram came this morning.”