'
CHAPTER 12
THE END OF THE END
'Egg, toast, tea, milk, tea-cup and saucer, egg-spoon, knife,
butter--that's all, I think,' remarked Anthea, as she put the last
touches to mother's breakfast-tray, and went, very carefully up the
stairs, feeling for every step with her toes, and holding on to the
tray with all her fingers. She crept into mother's room and set
the tray on a chair. Then she pulled one of the blinds up very
softly.
'Is your head better, mammy dear?' she asked, in the soft little
voice that she kept expressly for mother's headaches. 'I've
brought your brekkie, and I've put the little cloth with
clover-leaves on it, the one I made you.'
'That's very nice,' said mother sleepily.
Anthea knew exactly what to do for mothers with headaches who had
breakfast in bed. She fetched warm water and put just enough eau
de Cologne in it, and bathed mother's face and hands with the
sweet-scented water. Then mother was able to think about
breakfast.
'But what's the matter with my girl?' she asked, when her eyes got
used to the light.
'Oh, I'm so sorry you're ill,' Anthea said. 'It's that horrible
fire and you being so frightened. Father said so. And we all feel
as if it was our faults. I can't explain, but--'
'It wasn't your fault a bit, you darling goosie,' mother said.
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