''Thank you, Sue,'' she would always murmur. Sometimes she would close her eyes. ''How well you know me,'' she might say. ''I think you know the turning of all my limbs.''
I did, in time. I knew all that she liked and hated. I knew what food she would eat, and what she''d leave—and when Cook, for instance, kept sending up eggs, I went and told her to send soup instead.
''Clear soup,'' I said. ''Clear as you can make it. All right?'' She made a face. ''Mrs Stiles,'' she said, ''won''t like it.'' ''Mrs Stiles don''t have to eat it,'' I answered. ''And Mrs Stiles ain''t Miss Maud''s maid. I am.''
So then she did send soup. Maud ate it all up. ''Why are you smiling?'' she said, in her anxious way, when she had finished. I said I wasn''t. She put down her spoon. Then she frowned, like before, over her gloves. They had got splashed.
''It''s only water,'' I said, seeing her face. ''It won''t hurt you.'' She bit her lip. She sat another minute with her hands in her lap, stealing glances at her fingers, growing more and more restless. Finally she said:∴本∴作∴品∴由∴思∴兔∴在∴線∴閱∴讀∴網∴友∴整∴理∴上∴傳∴
''I think the water has a little fat in it..."
Then, it was easier to go into her room and get her a fresh pair of
aloves myself, than to sit and watch her fret. ''Let me do it,'' I said, undoing the button at