One pleasant thing happened.  On the Thursday, I think it was, I felt better.  My sister came into my room and said that Miss Crowther had called, and wanted to see me.

“Which Miss Crowther is it?” I asked.

“The little lady that looks like a bird, and chirps when she talks.”

Of course I was no longer in any doubt as to which of them it was.

“You told her I had a bad cold, did you not?”

“Oh, yes.  But she says if it is only a cold, it will do you no harm to see her.”

“But you told her I was in bed, didn’t you?”

“Of course.  But it makes no difference.  She says she’s used to seeing sick folk in bed; and if you don’t mind seeing her, she doesn’t mind seeing you.”

“Well, I suppose I must see her,” I said.

So my sister made me a little tidier, and introduced Miss Crowther.

“O dear Mr Walton, I am so sorry!  But you’re not very ill, are you?”

“I hope not, Miss Jemima.  Indeed, I begin to think this morning that I am going to get off easier than I expected.”

“I am glad of that.  Now listen to me.  I won’t keep you, and it is a matter of some importance.  I hear that one of your people is dead, a young woman of the name of Weir, who has left a little boy behind her.  Now, I have been wanting for a long time to adopt a child——­”

“But,” I interrupted her, “What would Miss Hester say?”

“My sister is not so very dreadful as perhaps you think her, Mr Walton; and besides, when I do want my own way very particularly, which is not often, for there are not so many things that it’s worth while insisting upon—­but when I do want my own way, I always have it.  I then stand upon my right of—­what do you call it?—­ primo—­primogeniture—­that’s it!  Well, I think I know something of this child’s father.  I am sorry to say I don’t know much good of him, and that’s the worse for the boy.  Still——­”

“The boy is an uncommonly sweet and lovable child, whoever was his father,” I interposed.

“I am very glad to hear it.  I am the more determined to adopt him.  What friends has he?”

“He has a grandfather, and an uncle and aunt, and will have a godfather—­that’s me—­in a few days, I hope.”

“I am very glad to hear it.  There will be no opposition on the part of the relatives, I presume?”

“I am not so sure of that.  I fear I shall object for one, Miss Jemima.”

“You?  I didn’t expect that of you, Mr Walton, I must say.”

And there was a tremor in the old lady’s voice more of disappointment and hurt than of anger.

“I will think it over, though, and talk about it to his grandfather, and we shall find out what’s best, I do hope.  You must not think I should not like you to have him.”

“Thank you, Mr Walton.  Then I won’t stay longer now.  But I warn you I will call again very soon, if you don’t come to see me.  Good morning.”