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She was just her stiff, ugly self, starchily clad in the most beautifully tailored white linen, and they all went mad about her. The Pup and the Kit clutched at her skirts until anybody else would have been a mass of wrinkles, and the left breast of her linen blouse did always bear a slight impress of little Ned's head.
But the boy knew little about heroes and did not comprehend. The nurse by this time had donned her uniform and rattled up starchily to take her place at the bedside, and Morton and the doctor went away, the doctor to step once more into the lady's room below to see if she was feeling quite herself again after her faint. The nurse leaned over the boy with a glass and spoon.
"What do you wish, Mr. Berrington?" Aunt Hannah inquired starchily, sitting bolt upright in her chair as I approached. I detest the use of the word "wish" in place of "want"; I don't know why, but I always associate it with prim, prudish, highly-conventional old ladies.
And then she rustled starchily back to the throne-chair by the record-table, and opened her Bible at the place where it said that Annie Petowski might sit up, and the Goldstein baby bran baths, and the other thing written just below.
Unpinning Stefana's many pins, she lifted out one of the dresses. It creaked starchily under her hands; it opened out before Miss Theodosia's horrified vision. She uttered a groan. Where, now, was that tender little heart-string tune? Miss Theodosia saw pink. Near-anger surged up within her at this ruinous, this piteous result of Stefana's toil.
Mason's chin dropped in dismay, but she was too well-trained an automaton to put her feelings into words. She rustled starchily from the room, to give the dread message to Mary, who promptly flew upstairs, voluble with distress. "You never mean to say that you are going to leave us, Miss Cornelia? Why, you've only just come! I thought it was to be three months, at the least.
It was during these five minutes that the idea came into Billy Grant's mind and, having come, remained. The Nurse got up, rustling starchily, and Billy caught her eye. "Every engine," he said with difficulty, "labours in a low gear. No wonder I'm heated up!" The Nurse, who was young, put her hand on his forehead. "Try to sleep," she said. "Time for that later," said Billy Grant.
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