She wasn't used to feeling so drowsy. After the events of yesterday seemed to drain her to the bone, she expected to sleep like a rock. Such wasn't the case. Resting on the floor while a strange man slept in her cot likely had something to do with that, but add to that the countless new questions that swirled in her head, and she barely slept a wink.
Rising early, as was her custom, before the first rays of the sun filtered through the small window, she lit a candle and checked on her “patient.” He still lived, but she already knew that; a faint wheeze came from his mouth, as his nose—carefully set the day before by Miss Winterbloom—was too swollen for him to breathe through. Readying herself quickly, she gave a last glance at the man, then slipped out of the room.
Upon entering the Mess Hall, she found the Mistress already busy preparing ingredients for the day's meals. Barely glancing up from her work, the plump woman called out, “You're here early today. Well, don't dawdle! Grab an apron and help me with those onions.”
“I'm afraid I won't be able to work today,” Daisy replied, firmly but respectfully. At that, the Mistress actually stopped what she was doing and gave her a strange look. Half to see what she was dieing from that might prevent her from working, and half because she had never known the younger woman to refuse her before. That gave Daisy the opening to start explaining the events of the previous day. At first, she was rewarded with only a quizzical stare; but as the story progressed, the Mistress' attitude changed to shocked and eventually downright motherly.
In the end, they both went to Daisy's room so the Mistress could see first hand what she had to deal with. The older woman cupped her hand over her mouth when she saw the state of the man, but she didn't speak till she squeezed back out the door and shut it behind her. “Of course, dear. Take all the time you need. And feel free to make full use of the kitchen. This man will need to regain his strength if he is to heal. I insist!” she said firmly, holding up a finger as Daisy began to object. Daisy thanked her appreciatively. She always knew the old cook was sweet underneath her crisp manner. “I'm sure after all you said he's been through, even your cooking will taste good to him,” she finished as she left Daisy behind.
Well, maybe she could use a pinch of tact, Daisy thought.
