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Updated: May 22, 2025
Woolper anxiously, after she had promised to do all her kind master required of her. "Do I think it will do her good? Of course I do. Sea-air and sea-bathing will set her up in no time; there's nothing particular the matter with her." "No, Mr. Philip; that's what bothers me about the whole thing.
Woolper a person of sufficient importance to necessitate the regulation of his countenance. What was she but an ignorant, obstinate old woman, who would most probably perish in the streets if he chose to turn her out of doors?
"I don't think you'll do that, sir." "Why not, pray?" "I don't think you dare do it, in the face of that strange doctor." "You don't? And so Dr. Jedd is the master of this house, is he?" "Yes, sir. Till that poor dear young lady is well again, if ever that day comes, I think Dr. Jedd will be the real master in this house." "By ! Mrs. Woolper, you're a cool hand, I must say!" He could say no more.
Halliday lay on a sofa in her husband's room, and Nancy Woolper slept in an adjoining apartment, always wakeful and ready if help of any kind should be wanted. The house was very quiet just now. Philip Sheldon walked up and down the room, thinking; and the creaking of his boots sounded unpleasantly loud to his ears.
Sheldon before going to his patient's room. He told the housemaid who admitted him to show the way to Miss Halliday's room. "The nurse is there, I suppose?" he said to the girl. "Yes, sir; leastways, Mrs. Woolper." "That will do." Mr. Sheldon heard the voice in the hall, and came out of the library as the doctor mounted the step of the stairs. "Who is this?
"I think he is very anxious," she said in a half whisper. "What brought him here just now? He did not know we were coming home." Mrs. Woolper answered this question. "He came for something for Miss Charlotte, sir; some books as she'd had from the library. They'd not been sent back; and he came to see about their being sent." "What books?" murmured Charlotte. But a pressure from Mrs.
Georgy was not particularly grateful to the energetic old Yorkshirewoman who had taken this burden off her hands, but she was submissive. "I never felt myself much in the house, my dear," she said to Lotta; "but I am sure since Ann Woolper has been here I have felt myself a cipher." Mrs. Woolper, naturally sharp and observant, was not slow to perceive that Mr.
Woolper and that phenomenon of idleness and iniquity, the London "girl," that Mr.
Happily, he found pleasant fellow-travellers and kindly encouragement from an indulgent public, and was thus able to accept the mud which bespattered his garments in a very placid spirit, and to make light of all obstacles in the great highway. The cottage at Wimbledon was no longer a dream. It was a pleasant reality, the pride and delight of Mrs. Sheldon and Ann Woolper.
That peerless child, the son and heir of the Hawkehursts, had been intrusted to the old woman's care; and this infant she loved with an affection much more intense than that which had once made Philip Sheldon so dear to her. It was by the cradle of this much-treasured child that Ann Woolper nursed her fear of her old master.
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