"Yes ser, m- milord." She wouldn't go see this Dr. Wells. Doctors were expensive and only ever called if someone was already on the brink of death. Anne wouldn't spend the precious money she had just been given on that. "I'm sorry ye wasn't feelin' well."

Sickness... It had been a hangover, and Anne knew it. Her father had often warned his children about the evils of drink, and she had seen it in her brother, when he came home drunk despite father's rules. She had also seen the evil done by a sober man, but father had just tried... A shiver went through her body. Anyway, she now understood just how bad drink was and she knew her father was right. "Thank ye milord, for me wage and yer kindness. I do apologize fer the floor. I'll not disturb ye further..." She loaded the coiled fishwire back onto the skep and lifted it up to her hip.