Come,
let me unfasten you," said Jenny.
"What is the use of undressing? We must be up again and at work
in three hours."
"And in those three hours you may get a great deal of rest, if
you will but undress yourself and fairly go to bed. Come, love."
Jenny's advice was not resisted; but before Ruth went to sleep
she said--
"Oh! I wish I was not so cross and impatient. I don't think I
used to be."
"No, I am sure not. Most new girls get impatient at first; but it
goes off, and they don't care much for anything after a while.
Poor child! she's asleep already," said Jenny to herself.
She could not sleep or rest. The tightness at her side was worse
than usual. She almost thought she ought to mention it in her
letters home; but then she remembered the premium her father had
struggled hard to pay, and the large family, younger than
herself, that had to be cared for, and she determined to bear on,
and trust that, when the warm weather came, both the pain and the
cough would go away. She would be prudent about herself.
What was the matter with Ruth? She was crying in her sleep as if
her heart would break. Such agitated slumber could be no rest; so
Jenny wakened her.
"Ruth! Ruth!"
"Oh, Jenny!" said Ruth, sitting up in bed, and pushing back the
masses of hair that were heating her forehead, "I thought I saw
mamma by the side of the bed, coming as she used to do, to see if
I were asleep and comfortable; and when I tried to take hold of
her, she went away and left me alone--I don't know where; so
strange!"
"It was only a dream; you know you'd been talking about her to
me, and you're feverish with sitting up late.
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