So at lunch she prattled of the book almost continuously, and at the
end of it thought Maggie more unsubtle than ever: she looked rather
tired and strained, thought the old lady, and she hardly said a word
from beginning to end.
The drive in the afternoon was equally unsatisfactory. Mrs. Baxter
took the book with her, and the pencil, in order to read aloud a few
extracts here and there; and she again seemed to find Maggie rather
vacuous and silent.
"Dearest child, you are not very well, I think," she said at last.
Maggie roused herself suddenly.
"What, Auntie?"
"You are not very well, I think. Did you sleep well?"
"Oh! I slept all right," said Maggie vaguely.
* * * * *
But after tea Mrs. Baxter did not feel very well herself. She said she
thought she must have taken a little chill. Maggie looked at her with
unperceptive eyes.
"I am sorry," she said mechanically.
"Dearest, you don't seem very overwhelmed. I think perhaps I shall
have dinner in bed. Give me my book, child.... Yes, and the
pencil-case."
Mrs. Baxter's room was so comfortable, and the book so fascinatingly
spiritual, that she determined to keep her resolution and go to bed.
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