You may take my word for
that."

He fixed his eyes attentively on her face. "You are absolutely certain,"
said he, "that the news of your sister's death was ..." He was going to
say "authentic," but was arrested by an ebullition of unparalleled fury
in the baby, who became fairly crumpled up with indignation, presumably
at being unable to hold more than a definite amount of milk. It was a
case that called for the promptest and humblest apologies from the human
race, represented by his great-grandmother. She had assuaged the natural
exasperation of two previous generations, and had the trick of it. He
subsided, accepting as his birthright a heavenly sleep, with dreams of
further milk.

Then Granny Marrable, released, looked the doctor in the face,
saying:--"'That the news of my sister's death was?...'" and stopped for
him to finish the sentence.

"Authentic," said he. He did not know whether her look meant that she
did not understand the word, and added:--"Trustworthy."

"I know what you mean," she said. "Go on and say why?"

The doctor was fairly frightened at his own temerity. Probably the
difficulties of his task had never fully dawned upon him. Would it not
be safer to back out of it now, leaving what he had suggested to
fructify? He would have fulfilled his promise to Lady Gwendolen, and
made it easier for her to word the actual disclosure of the facts. "I
was merely trying to think what anyone would say who wanted to make out
that this old Mrs. Prichard was not under a delusion."

"The poor old soul! What would they say, indeed?" This was no help.
Commiseration of Mrs. Prichard was not the doctor's object. But the
position was improved when she added:--"But there's ne'er a one _wants_
to make it out."

He thought of saying:--"But suppose there were!" and gave it up, knowing
that his hearer, though fairly educated, would regard hypotheses as
intense intellectual luxuries, prized academically, but without a place
in the sane world without. He decided on saying:--"Of course, you would
have documentary evidence." Then he felt that his tone had been
ill-chosen--a curfew of the day's discussions, a last will and testament
of the one in hand.

So it was, for the moment. Granny Marrable wanted the subject to drop.
On whatever pretext it was revived, the story of her sister's life and
death was still painful to her. But "documentary evidence" was too
sesquipedalian to submit to without a protest. "I should have he