little William Pitt; you're going to be It, as they say in
the States," he would say when the child was brought in to see him. "I
hope you'll approve of me for a father when you're in office."

This strange name by which his father called him confused the child and
displeased him. He felt that he was being made fun of. Children and dogs
dislike the people who laugh at them. He hated to go into his father's
room, and resisted so strenuously that Sophy took him there less and
less.

As the days went by, and still Anne Harding had not found any morphia or
hypodermic syringe in Cecil's possession, Sophy began to grow more
hopeful. Cecil was certainly far quieter than he had been for some time.
She began again to think that Bellamy and the nurse must surely be
mistaken.

On the afternoon of the fourth day she called Anne into her room, and
spoke to her about it.

"Don't you think you must be mistaken, this time, Nurse?" she asked
eagerly.

Anne Harding shook her stubborn, wise little head.

"No, Mrs. Chesney," she said.

"But where _could_ it be? Mr. Chesney is never long enough anywhere but
in his own room to have it hidden about the house."

"It isn't hidden about the house," said Anne. "It's hidden in his own
room. _I know it_--as if I'd seen it through the wall, or floor, or
wherever it is," she added firmly, seeing Sophy's look of doubt. But
this doubt could not withstand such authoritative conviction. Sophy
sighed wearily.

"I suppose you must be right," she said; "but it seems impossible."

She sat looking out of window at the waving mantle of rain which was
again blown grey and wild over the swelling breasts of pasture land.
Then she turned vehemently.

"Think of it!" she exclaimed. "The beauty of a field of poppies! The
passionate loveliness of all those scarlet cups full of sunlight. And
all the while their hearts are bitter with this evil--this horrible
poison! Oh, why don't men wipe them from the earth!"

Anne looked at her with that wise kindliness. "You forget all the good
that opium does," she said brusquely tender, after her fashion. "It's
like so many other things--this fire on your hearth for instance. A
good servant but a bad master."

Just after this conversation Sophy went to read aloud to Cecil at his
request. This also was a new phase. He could never endure reading aloud
in former days. Now he would lie, dozing off now and then, evidently
soothed agreeably by the sound of her low, rich