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Updated: June 3, 2025
"Go in," she said. As I entered, Senda tenderly disengaged herself, went out, and closed the door. I drew near in silence and she began at once to speak, bidding me take the chair Senda had left, and with a tender smile thanking me for coming.
I sink sat iss not much trouble to be a countess in Ame'ica? "Se secondt sing" here a servant entered, and, it seemed to me, never would go out, but Senda waited till we were again alone "se secondt pahdon me, I sink I shall betteh se secondt sing divide again into two aw sree. And se fairst is sat Monsieur Fontenette vill like ve'y ve'y much to come home now right avay."
When Senda, while the patient dozed, stole brief moments of sleep to keep what she could of her overtasked powers, her place, at the bedside, was always filled by Fontenette, who as often kept his promise to call her the instant her husband should rouse.
I coul'n' do like that; but I do the bes' I could; he is at my 'ouse in bed. An' my own doctor sen' word what to do an' he'll come in the mawning. At the cottage my companions remained outside. As I entered Senda caught one glance and exclaimed, "Ah, mine hussbandt is foundt and is anyhow alife!" "Yes," I replied, "but he's ill. Mr. Fontenette met him and took him to his house.
"Anyhow," cooed Senda, "I risk it;" and then to his wife "For se present, siss betteh I sew for you san spell for you." Thus was our fair neighbor at every turn overmatched by the trustful love of the man and watchful love of the woman, whose fancied inferiority was her excuse for an illicit infatuation; an infatuation which little by little became a staring fact only not to Fontenette.
There is nothing in life for which to be more thankful, or in which to be more diligent, than its intermissions. This is not my sermonizing. I am not going to put everything off upon "Senda," but really this was hers. I have edited it a trifle; her inability to make, in her pronunciation, a due difference between wine and vine rather dulled the point of her moral.
Well I'll be back in the morning." So ran the time. There were no more new cases in our house; Mrs. Smith and I had had the scourge years before, as also had Senda, who remained over the way. Fontenette passed from one typical phase of the disorder to another "charmingly" as the doctor said, yet he specially needed just such exceptionally delicate care as his wife was giving him.
I went outside a step or two and took in a long draught of good air the air of a yellow-fever room is dreadful. It was my first breath of mental relief also; almost the first that night, and the last. I paced once or twice the short narrow walk between the front flower-beds, surprised at their well-kept and blooming condition until I remembered Senda.
If she was doing well, well; and if not, he would spare us the pain of informing or deceiving him. Senda became a kind of chief-of-staff for both sides of the street. She would have begged to be Mrs. Fontenette's nurse, but for one other responsibility, which we felt it would be unsafe, and she thought it would be unfair, for her to put thus beyond her own reach: "se care of mine hussbandt."
I can't bear the thought of it!" and indeed the thought of the average hired "fever-nurse" of those days was not inspiring; so I served as her alternate when she would accept any and throw herself on the couch Senda had spread in the little parlor.
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