iduous foster-parents had bestowed
him and his goods in the tranquillity of an empty compartment of the
Loop Line train that they began to appreciate the morbid unusualness of
his condition. His eyes glittered with extraordinary brilliance. He
talked incessantly, not listening to their answers. And his skin was
burning hot.

"Why, whatever's the matter with you, my dear?" asked Janet, alarmed.
"You're like an oven!"

"I'm thirsty," said George. "If I don't have something to drink soon, I
don't know what I shall do."

Janet looked at Edwin.

"There won't be time to get something at the refreshment room?"

They both felt heavily responsible.

"I might--" Edwin said irresolutely.

But just then the guard whistled.

"Never mind!" Janet comforted the child. "In twenty minutes we shall
be in the house... No! you must keep your overcoat buttoned."

"How long have you been like that, George?" Edwin asked. "You weren't
like that when you started, surely?"

"No," said George judicially. "It came on in the train."

After this, he appeared to go to sleep.

"He's certainly not well," Janet whispered.

Edwin shrugged his shoulders. "Don't you think he's grown?" he
observed.

"Oh yes!" said Janet. "It's astonishing, isn't it, how children shoot
up in a few weeks!"

They might have been parents exchanging notes, instead of celibates
playing at parenthood for a hobby.

"Mamma says I've grown an inch." George opened his eyes. "She says
it's about time I had! I dare say I shall be very tall. Are we nearly
there?" His high, curt, febrile tones were really somewhat alarming.

When the train threw them out into the sodden waste that surrounds
Bleakridge Station, George could scarcely stand. At any rate he showed
no wish to stand. His protectors took him strongly by either arm, and
thus bore him to Lane End House, with irregular unwilling assistance
from his own feet. A porter followed with the luggage. It was an
extremely distressing passage. Each protector in secret was imagining
for George some terrible fever, of swift onslaught and fatal effect. At
length they entered the garden, thanking their gods.

"He's not well," said Janet to her mother, who was fussily awaiting them
in the hall. Her voice showed apprehension, and she was not at all
convincing when she added: "But it's nothing serious. I shall put him
straight to bed and let him eat there."

Instantly George became the centre of the