Two days later Lady Charlotte was explaining to Sarah that so acute a
financial crisis had arrived "as likely as not we shan't have a roof
over our heads in a day or two."
"We'll take an organ and a monkey," said Sarah.
"At any rate," Lady Charlotte said, "when you grow up you'll be used to
anything."
Mrs. Kitson, untidy, in dishevelled clothing, and great distress, was
shown in.
"Dear Lady Charlotte, I must apologise--this absurd hour--but
I--we--very unhappy about poor Mary. We can't think what's the matter
with her. She's not slept for two nights--in a high fever, and cries and
cries. The Doctor--Dr. Williamson--_really_ clever--says she's unhappy
about something. We thought--scarlet fever--no spots--can't
think--perhaps your little girl."
"Poor Mrs. Kitson. How tiresome for you. Do sit down. Perhaps Sarah----"
Sarah shook her head.
"She didn't say she'd a headache in the garden the other day."
Mrs. Kitson gazed appealingly at the little black figure in front of
her.
"Do try and remember, dear. Perhaps she told you something."
"Nothing" said Sarah.
"She cries and cries," said Mrs.
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