They were amusing characters, these caretakers. They were so thoroughly
unconscious of their own deficiencies. They might neglect their own
invalids, but they would look after other people's invalids, and play
the nurse most soothingly and prettily where there was no call and no
occasion. Then they would come and relate to their neglected dear ones
what they had been doing for others: and the dear ones would smile
quietly, and watch the buttons being stitched on for strangers, and the
cornflour which they could not, get nicely made for themselves, being
carefully prepared for other people's neglected dear ones.
Some of the dear ones were rather bitter. But there were many of a
higher order of intelligence, who seemed to realize that they had no
right to be ill, and that being ill, and therefore a burden on their
friends, they must make the best of everything, and be grateful for
what was given them, and patient when anything was withheld. Others of
a still higher order of understanding, attributed the eccentricities of
the caretakers to one cause alone: the Petershof air. They know it had
the invariable effect of getting into the head, and upsetting the
balance of those who drank deep of it.
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