“You are very good,” Anne murmured.

“Not a bit,” said Mrs. Errol cheerfully.  “I’m real pleased to have you, dear.  And don’t you think you’re giving any trouble to anybody, for there isn’t anything that pleases me so much as to have a girl to look after.  It’s the biggest treat the Lord could send.”

Anne smiled a little, conscious of a glow at the heart that she had not known for many a day.  She tried weakly to give her hand to her new friend, but the pain of moving was so intense that she uttered a quick gasp and abandoned the attempt.

But in an instant Mrs. Errol’s fingers were wound closely about her own, the large face, wonderfully smooth, save for a few kindly wrinkles about the eyes, was bent to hers.

“There, dearie, there!” said the motherly voice, tender for all its gruffness.  “You’re stiff in every limb, and no wonder.  It’s just natural.  Just you lie still and leave everything to me.”

She was, in fact, determined to take the whole burden of nursing upon herself, and when the doctor had gone she began to show Anne how capable she was of fulfilling the responsibility she had thus undertaken.  No trained nurse could have given her more dexterous attention.

“I’ve spent a great part of my life in sickrooms,” she told Anne.  “First my husband, and then poor Lucas, that’s my eldest boy.  But Lucas won’t have me to wait on him now.  He doesn’t like his mother to see him in his bad hours, and they are mighty bad now and then.  So my nursing talents would run to seed if it weren’t for a casual patient like yourself.”

It was so evident that she enjoyed her self-appointed task that Anne could only smile and thank her.  She was helpless as an infant and could not have refused her hostess’s ministrations even had she desired to do so.  She suffered a good deal of pain also, and this kept her from taking much note of her surroundings during that first day at Baronmead.

She refrained from asking further about her husband for some time, avoiding all mention of him, but she was possessed by a nervous dread that increased steadily as the hours wore on.  At last, as Mrs. Errol seemed equally determined to volunteer no information, she summoned her resolution and compelled herself to speak.

“My husband has not come yet?” she asked.

“No, dear.”  Mrs. Errol smiled upon her with much kindness, but her tone did not encourage further inquiries.

Anne lay silent for a little.  It was a difficult matter to handle.  “Did he send no message?” she asked at last, with knitted brows.  “I thought—­or did I dream it?—­that your son said he was coming.”

“To be sure he did,” said Mrs. Errol.  “You would like to speak to Nap about it, wouldn’t you?”

Anne hesitated.  Mrs. Errol was already on her way to the door.  It was plain that here was a responsibility she was unprepared to shoulder.  But Anne called her back.