"Aunt," began Mabel, drawing her aside, "that poor wretch up-stairs
must be cared for. It is the height of cruelty to lock him up in a
fireless room, without provisions or dry clothing. If he should die,
would we be guiltless?"
Mrs. Sutton's benevolent physiognomy was perplexed.
"Didn't I say as much in the other room, before everybody, my dear?
And didn't SHE put me down with one of her magisterial sentences?
She is mistress here--not you or I. Besides, Winston has the key of
that east garret in his pocket, and I would not be the one to ask
him for it, since he has had his wife's opinion upon the subject of
humanity to prisoners."
"I shall not trouble him with my petition. I discovered by accident,
when I was a child, that the key of the north room would open that
door. If I order, upon my own responsibility, that a cup of hot
coffee, and some bread and meat be taken up to him, you will not
deny them to me, I suppose?"
"Certainly not, my child! but I dare not send a servant with them.
Winston's orders were positive--they all tell me--that not a soul
should attempt to hold communication with him. And what he says he
means."
"Then," replied Winston's sister, with a spark of his spirit, "I
will take the waiter up myself. I cannot sleep with this horror
hanging over me--the fear lest, through my neglect or cowardice, a
fellow-being--whose only offence against society, so far as we
knows is his dropping down in a faint or stupor under a hedge on the
Ridgeley plantation--should lose his life."
"Your feelings are only what I should expect from you, my love; but
think twice before you go up-stairs yourself! It would be considered
an outrageous impropriety, were it found out."
"Less outrageous than to let a stranger perish for want of such
attention as one would vouchsafe to a stray dog?" questioned Mabel,
with a queer smile. "Roger! pour me out a bowl of coffee at once.
Put it on a waiter with a plate of bread and butter--or stay!
oysters will be more warming and nourishing. I am very sure that
Daphne is keeping a saucepanful hot for her supper and yours.
Hurry!"
The waiter, whose wife was the cook, ducked his head with a grin
confirmatory of his young mistress' shrewd suspicion, and vanished
to obey her orders, never dreaming but she wanted the edibles for
her private consumption. He enjoyed late and hot suppers, and why
not she? Thanks to this persuasion, the coffee was strong, clear,
and boiling, the oysters done to a turn, and smoking from the
saucepan.