A Sham Princess by Eglanton Thorne

THE Princess was better. She was no longer in bed. Mrs. Kay had helped her to rise and dress herself; and now, in her shabby, threadbare frock, with thin, broken shoes on her feet, she sat on a hard, wooden chair, beside the little handful of fire which Bert had managed to kindle in the rusty grate.

She was a very miserable princess. She had felt ill enough as she lay on her comfortless bed, but she felt far worse now as she tried to sit upright on the hard chair, with its straight, uneasy back. Her limbs ached, her head throbbed, and every now and then she was conscious of a sick, giddy sensation, when the room seemed to go round with her, and she had to clutch at the chair to keep herself from falling. If only she had had a mother to care for her, and could have felt the comfort of a mother's love in the sore depression which was the result of weakness!

Mrs. Kay was well-meaning; but since she knew the young patient to be out of danger, her manner had grown stern again. Her better self, the self of long ago, had re-asserted itself during the days when Prin needed to be watched and tended from hour to hour; but already the good influence was past. Evil habits had resumed their sway over her. She was the "cross old woman" again, and when she was not at the laundry, where she earned her living, she was drinking in the public-house over the way.

Bert was kneeling by the fire, dividing his attention between a small saucepan, which was simmering on the hob, and his sister, on whom, from time to time, he cast glances expressive of anxiety.

"Do you feel better, Prin? " he asked, not for the first time.

"I do wish you wouldn't keep asking me if I feel better," she answered pettishly; "I feel worse, I tell you, a great deal worse than I did when I was in bed. Can't you believe me?"

"But you can't really be worse," said Bert, seeking to reassure himself. "The doctor says you are better, and Mrs. Kay says so, so you must be better."

"I suppose they know my feelin's better than I do," replied the Princess scornfully; "I tell you I am worse, and I ought to know, I should think."

"Well, p'raps you'll feel better to-morrow," said Bert cheerfully.

"No, I shan't; I shall never feel well again. I only wish I was dead."

"Oh, Prin! " exclaimed Bert reproachfully. "When I want you so much to live! What could I do without you?"

"You would do just as well without me as with me," she said.

"I shouldn't do at all. I should die too," said Bert. "But don't talk of dying; just wait till you've had some of this beef-tea, and you'll feel as fit as possible."

As he spoke he lifted the lid of the saucepan, and a savoury odour was emitted. Bert's nostrils inhaled it with avidity. He was so hungry that he could have despatched in a few minutes all that the saucepan contained. But he had no intention of tasting more than a few drops, just to assure himself of the success of his cookery. Bert was feeling rather proud of his first attempt at making beef-tea. He had spent the last of the doctor's shilling on the beef-which was not of the primest quality-had got a hint from Mrs. Kay how to set to work, and the result was now to be tested. But the odour which Bert found so savoury only sickened the Princess, and to his keen disappointment she could not drink the weak, greasy decoction which he presently set before her.

"Take it away," she cried impatiently; "I don't like it; I don't want it."

And then to Bert's dismay, her head sank forward on her hands, and she began to sob helplessly. This was unlike the Princess, who was usually quick and imperious in her ways, and, though by no means sweet-tempered, perfectly self-controlled.

She signed to Bert to help her back to bed, and he obeyed. She sank down, hid her face in the pillow, and sobbed with hysterical violence, crying between her sobs,-"I wish I were dead. I do-I do!"

Bert stood looking at her in utter helplessness. He was devoted to his sister; but he was wont to regard her as one far stronger and more spirited than himself. She was his ruler, and her government was not of the gentlest description; but her faithful slave never rebelled. Their father had always petted and indulged her, while he made small account of Bert, whose appearance was mean and insignificant. The Princess was ever the Princess, to be treated with the first consideration, and given the best of everything it was possible to obtain. Bert had learned the lesson well. It never occurred to him to question her right to supremacy. He was as obedient to her now as he had been in the days when his father was at hand to insist upon his doing as she told him. It was positively alarming to Bert to see his sovereign thus prostrate.

"Don't cry, Princess," he pleaded; "oh, please, don't cry! It ain't no manner of use to cry. If things is bad to-day, they'll be better to-morrow."

"They will never be better for us," sobbed the Princess. "Look what a hole we live in! Could any one be well here?"