"
"My dear," said Nurse Bundle, "there ain't no difficulty in finding
homes for gals that have been brought up to clean, and to do as
they're bid. It's folk as can't do a thing if you set it 'em, nor
take care of a thing if you gives it 'em, as there's no providing
for."
I almost shrink from recording the hardest, bitterest loss that those
changeful years of my school-life brought me--the death of Mr.
Andrewes. It was during my holidays, and yet I was not with him when
he died.
I do not think I had noticed anything unusual about him beforehand. He
had not been very well for some months, but we thought little of it,
and he never dwelt upon it himself. I was in the fifth form at the
time, and almost grown up. Sweep was a middle-aged dog, the wisest and
handsomest of his race. The Rector always dined with us on Sunday, but
one evening he excused himself, saying he felt too unwell to come out,
and would prefer to stay quietly at home, especially as he had a
journey before him; for he was going the next day to visit his brother
in Yorkshire for a change. But he asked if my father would spare me to
come down and spend the evening with him instead. I rightly considered
Sweep as included in the invitation, and we went together.
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