She made herself busy; she brought hot water bottles and eau de cologne; she spent twenty minutes chafing the hands and forehead and laying warmth to the feet, that the Old Lady might have the comfort of knowing that everything had been done that could be done.

She shuffled off to find brandy, as if she had only thought of it that instant; and she played out the play with the looking-glass and the feather.
The feather fluttered to the floor, and Martha ceased bending and peering, and looked at her mistress.
"She's gone, m'm, I do believe." The Old Lady sank by the chair, her arms clinging to those rigid knees.
"Jooley--Jooley--don't you _know_ me ?" she cried, as if in a passion of affront..