The After Clap

The first break was when her mother and Miss Wellwood came in, after
having wandered gently together round the warm, walled Deanery garden,
comparing notes about their myrtles and geraniums. Then it was that amid
all their tender inquiries after her headache, and their administration
of afternoon tea, it first broke upon Rachel that they expected her to
go down to dinner.

"Pray excuse me," she said imploringly, looking at her mother for
support, "indeed, I don't know that I could sit out a dinner! A number
of people together make me so dizzy and confused."

"Poor child!" said Miss Wellwood, kindly, but looking to Mrs. Curtis
in her turn. "Perhaps, as she has been so ill, the evening might be
enough."

"Oh," exclaimed Rachel, "I hope to be in bed before you have finished
dinner. Indeed I am not good company for any one."

"Don't say that, my dear," and Miss Wellwood looked puzzled.

"Indeed, my dear," said Mrs. Curtis, evidently distressed, "I think the
exertion would be good for you, if you could only think so."

"Yes, indeed," said Miss Wellwood, catching at the notion; "it is your
mind that needs the distraction, my dear."

"I am distracted enough already," poor Rachel said, putting her hand up.
"Indeed, I do not want to be disobliging," she said, interpreting her
mother's anxious gestures to mean that she was wanting in civility; "it
is very kind in you, Miss Wellwood, but this has been a very trying day,
and I am sure I can give no pleasure to anybody, so if I might only be
let off."