She passed as weary a fortnight as ever mortal spent in Miss Crawley's sick-room; but her little nerves seemed to be of iron, as she was quite unshaken by the duty and the tedium of the sick-chamber.
She never told until long afterwards how painful that duty was; how peevish a patient was the jovial old lady; how angry; how sleepless; in what horrors of death; during what long nights she lay moaning, and in almost delirious agonies respecting that future world which she quite ignored when she was in good health .-- Picture to yourself, oh fair young reader, a worldly, selfish, graceless, thankless, religionless old woman, writhing in pain and fear, and without her wig.

Picture her to yourself, and ere you be old, learn to love and pray! Sharp watched this graceless bedside with indomitable patience.

Nothing escaped her; and, like a prudent steward, she found a use for everything.

She told many a good story about Miss Crawley's illness in after days--stories which made the lady blush through her artificial carnations.

During the illness she was never out of temper; always alert; she slept light, having a perfectly clear conscience; and could take that refreshment at almost any minute's warning.