Page:The Prussian officer, and other stories, Lawrence, 1914.djvu/128

 “It’s a bit better,” she replied wearily, impersonally. This strange putting herself aside, this abstracting herself and answering him only what she thought good for him to hear, made the relations between mother and son poignant and cramping to Miss Louisa. It made the man so ineffectual, so nothing. Louisa groped as if she had lost him. The mother was real and positive—he was not very actual. It puzzled and chilled the young woman.

“I’d better fetch Mrs. Harrison?” he said, waiting for his mother to decide.

“I suppose we shall have to have somebody,” she replied.

Miss Louisa stood by, afraid to inferfere in their business. They did not include her in their lives, they felt she had nothing to do with them, except as a help from outside. She was quite external to them. She felt hurt and powerless against this unconscious difference. But something patient and unyielding in her made her say:

“I will stay and do the nursing: you can‘t be left.”

The other two were shy, and at a loss for an answer.

“Wes’ll manage to get somebody,” said the old woman wearily. She did not care very much what happened, now.

“I will stay until to-morrow, in any case,” said Louisa. “Then we can see.”

“I’m sure you’ve no right to trouble yourself,” moaned the old woman. But she must leave herself in any hands.

Miss Louisa felt glad that she was admitted, even