She went to bed early.

"And that's my life," she said as she blew out the candle.

Said Mrs. James to Mrs. Symes over the last and strongest cup of tea:

"Miss Betty's ailing a bit, I fancy. Looked a bit peaky, it seemed to
me. I shouldn't wonder if she was to go off in a decline like her
father did."

"It wasn't no decline," said Mrs. Symes, dropping her thick voice,
"'e was cut off in the midst of his wicked courses. A judgment if
ever there was one."

Betty's blameless father had been killed in the hunting field.

"I daresay she takes after him, only being a female it all turns to
her being pernickety in her food and allus wanting the windows open.
And mark my words, it may turn into a decline yet, Mrs. Symes, my
dear."

Mrs. Symes laughed fatly. "That ain't no decline," she said, "you take
it from me. What Miss Betty wants is a young man. It is but nature
after all, and what we must all come to, gentle or simple. Give her a
young man to walk out with and you'll see the difference. Decline
indeed! A young man's what she wants. And if I know anything of gells
and their ways she'll get one, no matter how close the old chap keeps
her."

Mrs. Symes was not so wrong as the delicate minded may suppose.