"You can imagine what a turn it gave me. Maggie was with me in the room, and she said afterwards she really thought I was going to faint. I just kinda looked at the man--I'm meaning Sir Angus--but I could not say a word. I was speechless. But Maggie--Maggie's real bright--she spoke up and she says, 'Will she recover?' she says, just like that. And he was nice, I must say he was awful nice, very reassuring. 'Time,' he says, 'time and treatment and patience'--I think that was the three things, and my! the patience is the worst thing." "But she's improving, Mrs. Macbean?" asked Mrs. Forsyth. "Slowly, Mrs. Forsyth, slowly. But a thing like that takes a long time." "Our Hugh says that the less a body knows about their inside the better," said healthy Mrs. Forsyth. "That's true, I'm sure," agreed Mrs. Thomson. "Mrs. Forsyth, is your cup out? Try a bit of this cake." "Thanks. I always eat an extra big tea here, Mrs. Thomson, everything's that good. Have you a nurse for Phemie, Mrs. Macbean?" Mrs. Macbean laid down her cup, motioning Jessie away as she tried to take it to refill it, and said solemnly: "A nurse, Mrs. Forsyth? Nurses have walked in a procession through our house this last month. And, mind you, I haven't a thing to say against one of them. They were all nice women, but somehow they just didn't suit. The first one had an awful memory. No, she didn't forget things, it was the other way. She was a good careful nurse, but she could say pages of poetry off by heart, and she did it through the night to soothe Phemie like. She would get Phemie all comfortable, and then she'd turn out the light, and sit down by the fire with her knitting, and begin something about 'The stag at eve had drunk its fill,' and so on and on and on. She meant well, but who would put up with that? D'you know, that stag was fair getting on Phemie's nerves, so we had to make an excuse and get her away. Then the next was a strong-minded kind of a woman, and the day after she came I found Phemie near in hysterics, and it turned out the nurse had told her she had patented a shroud, and it had given the girl quite a turn. I don't wonder! It's not a nice subject even for a well body. Mr. Macbean was angry, I can tell you, so _she_ went. The next one--a nice wee fair-haired girl--she took appendicitis. Wasn't it awful? Oh! we've been unfortunate right enough. However, the one we've got now is all right, and she considers the servants, and that's the main thing--not, mind you, that I ever have much trouble with servants. I niver had what you would call a real bad one. Mine have all been nice enough girls, only we didn't always happen to agree. Ye know what I mean?" "Ucha," said Mrs. Thomson. "Are you well suited just now, Mrs. Macbean?"