She's such a little thing, and so young. Come Tuesday
evening at eight o'clock."
CHAPTER XVII
Late that evening I had a talk with Mrs. Mundy. I told her where Etta
Blake lived, that is, where she could find the house from which I had
seen her come with the baby in her arms, the house whose address had
been given me by Selwyn, and the next morning she was to go and see
her; but the next morning Mrs. Mundy was ill. Acute indigestion was
what the doctor called it, but to Bettina and me it seemed a much more
dreadful thing, and for the time all thought of other matters was put
aside and held in abeyance.
With Bettina's help I tried to do Mrs. Mundy's work, but my first
breakfast was not an artistic product. I shall never know how to cook.
I don't want to know how. I don't like to cook. There were many other
things I could do, however, and though Mrs. Mundy wept, being weak from
nausea, at my refusal to leave undone the usual cleaning, I did it with
pride and delight in the realization that, notwithstanding little
practice, I could do it very well.
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