Vague words poured from her as she laid her cheek against
Evelina's--trivial inarticulate endearments caught from Mrs.
Hawkins's long discourses to her baby.
For a while Evelina let herself be passively held; then she
drew back from her sister's clasp and looked about the shop. "I'm
dead tired. Ain't there any fire?" she asked.
"Of course there is!" Ann Eliza, holding her hand fast, drew
her into the back room. She did not want to ask any questions yet:
she simply wanted to feel the emptiness of the room brimmed full
again by the one presence that was warmth and light to her.
She knelt down before the grate, scraped some bits of coal and
kindling from the bottom of the coal-scuttle, and drew one of the
rocking-chairs up to the weak flame. "There--that'll blaze up in
a minute," she said. She pressed Evelina down on the faded
cushions of the rocking-chair, and, kneeling beside her, began to
rub her hands.
"You're stone-cold, ain't you? Just sit still and warm
yourself while I run and get the kettle. I've got something you
always used to fancy for supper." She laid her hand on Evelina's
shoulder. "Don't talk--oh, don't talk yet!" she implored.
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