Sharpe, drawing her shawl around her, "I
must go. I came to walk off a bad headache; I find it is gone, so I had
better return."
"Good-bye, and God speed you!" said Hugh Ingelow.
Mrs. Sharpe walked back to the house. Old Peter admitted her, and all
three were solicitous about her headache.
"Much better," Mrs. Sharpe said, quietly. "I knew that walk would cure
it."
All the rest of the afternoon she helped old Sally to manufacture pies.
Tea-time came, and, ever willing, she volunteered to make the tea.
"Do so," said old Sally. "I can't abear to take my hands out o' dough
when they're into it."
The tea was made, the supper-table set, and then Mrs. Sharpe begged
permission to make herself a cup of coffee.
"I find it better for my head than tea. It will cure me quite, I know."
Mrs. Oleander assented, and the coffee was made. The quartet sat down
to supper, and Susan Sharpe felt an inward quaking as she watched them
drink the tea. Mrs. Oleander complained that it was weak; Sally said it
must have boiled, it had such a nasty taste; but they drank it for all
that.
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