I don't mind the cold--it will keep me awake." "You are very kind--very, very kind and thoughtful, Sally," says I, "but I am too wretched in my mind to want sleep, or rest, or to do anything but wait where I am, and try and hope for the best." "Then I'll wait, too," says Sally.

"I must do something; if there's nothing to do but waiting, I'll wait." And she sat down opposite me at the foot of the bed, and drew the blanket close round her with a shiver.
"After working so hard as you do, I'm sure you must want all the little rest you can get," says I.
"Excepting only you," says Sally, putting her heavy arm very clumsily, but very gently at the same time, round Mary's feet, and looking hard at the pale, still face on the pillow.

"Excepting you, she's the only soul in this house as never swore at me, or give me a hard word that I can remember.

When you made puddings on Sundays, and give her half, she always give me a bit.

The rest of 'em calls me Dusty Sal.