Here there was a fit of coughing that made the fringe dance till the old woman recovered, wiped her eyes, and shook her skinny hand at the fringe for quivering. "Doctor? Yes, they'd better. What do I want with a doctor? Let them get one for old Lyddy--wants one worse than I do, ever so much. Oh, there you are, miss. Is that beef-tea strong?" "Yes, Lady Teigne, very strong." Claire placed a tray, covered with a white napkin, before her, and took the cover from the white china soup-basin, beside which was a plate of toast cut up into dice. The old woman sniffed at a spoonful. "How much cognac did you put in?" "A full wine-glass, Lady Teigne." "Then it's poor brandy." "No, Lady Teigne; it is the best French." "Chut! Don't talk to me, child. I know what brandy is." She threw some of the sippets in, and began tasting the broth in an unpleasant way, mumbling between the spoonfuls. "I knew what brandy was before you were born, and shall go on drinking it after you are dead, I dare say. There, I shan't have any more. Give it to that hungry boy of yours. He looks as if he wanted it." Claire could not forbear a smile, for the old woman had not left half a dozen spoonfuls at the bottom of the basin. "Look here. Come up at two o'clock and dress me. I shall have a good many visitors to-day, and mind this: don't you ever hint at sending up Eliza again, or I'll go and take apartments somewhere else. We're getting proud, I suppose?" There was a jingle of the china on the tray as the old woman threw herself down, and then a mumbling, followed by a fit of coughing, which soon subsided, and lastly there was nothing visible but the great cap-border, and a few straggling white hairs. At two o'clock to the moment Claire went upstairs again, and for the space of an hour she performed the duties of lady's-maid without a murmur, building up the old relic of a bygone fashionable generation into a presentable form. There was an auburn set of curls upon her head, with a huge tortoise-shell comb behind. A change had been wrought in her mouth, which was filled with white teeth. A thick coating of powder filled up some of her wrinkles, and a wonderful arrangement of rich lace draped her form as she sat propped up in an easy-chair. "Now my diamonds," she said, at last; and Claire fetched a casket from the dressing-table, and held a mirror before the old lady, as she wearied herself--poor old flickering flame that she was!--fitting rings on her thin fingers, the glittering necklet about her baggy throat, the diadem in her hair, and the eardrops in the two yellow pendulous adjuncts to her head. "Shall I do, chit?" she said, at last. "Yes," said Claire gravely. "Humph! You don't look pleased; you never do. You're jealous, chit. There, half draw down the blinds and go, now. Leave the room tidy. I hate to have you by me at times like this."