But she was puzzled to know how to manage me in other ways.

I used to have long, hard fits of crying; and, thinking that I ought to go home--and yet what could they do with me there ?--and a hundred and fifty other anxious thoughts, some of which I could tell to Mrs.Medlicott, and others I could not.

Her way of comforting me was hurrying away for some kind of tempting or strengthening food--a basin of melted calves-foot jelly was, I am sure she thought, a cure for every woe.
"There take it, dear, take it!" she would say; "and don't go on fretting for what can't be helped." But, I think, she got puzzled at length at the non-efficacy of good things to eat; and one day, after I had limped down to see the doctor, in Mrs.Medlicott's sitting-room--a room lined with cupboards, containing preserves and dainties of all kinds, which she perpetually made, and never touched herself--when I was returning to my bed-room to cry away the afternoon, under pretence of arranging my clothes, John Footman brought me a message from my lady (with whom the doctor had been having a conversation) to bid me go to her in that private sitting-room at the end of the suite of apartments, about which I spoke in describing the day of my first arrival at Hanbury.

I had hardly been in it since; as, when we read to my lady, she generally sat in the small withdrawing-room out of which this private room of hers opened.

I suppose great people do not require what we smaller people value so much,--I mean privacy.