ess to her. She would have liked to
hear him say there was now no need for him to come again till he was
sent for.

"Any fresh developments?" said he, as Granny Marrable left the room to
herald his arrival. He heard Gwen's account of her own experience in the
night, and seemed disquieted. "I wish," said he abruptly, "that people
would keep their letters to themselves. I am not to be told what was in
the letter, I understand?" For Gwen had skipped the contents of it,
merely saying that Mrs. Picture had asked to hear her letter read
through again.

Then Widow Thrale came in, saying her mother was ready to see the
doctor. Mother was with her mother, she said. The doctor departed into
the bedroom.

"How long has your mother been awake?" asked Gwen under no drawback
about the designation.

"Quite half an hour. I told her your ladyship was having a little
breakfast. She always asks for you."

"I heard that she was talking, through the door. What has she been
talking about?"

Ruth's memory went back conscientiously, for a starting-point. "About
her annuity," she said, "first. Then about the young children--little
Dave and Dolly. That's mother's little Dave, only it's all so strange to
think of. And then she talked about the accident."

"What about her annuity? I'm curious about that. I wonder who sends it
to her?"

"She says it comes from the Office, because they know her address. She
says Susan Burr took them the new address, when they left Skillick's.
She says she writes her name on the back...."

"It's a cheque, I suppose?"

"Your ladyship would know. Susan Burr takes it to the Bank and brings
back the money." Ruth hesitated over saying:--"I would be happier my
mother should not fret so about herself ... she was for making her will,
and I told her there would be time for that."

"Oh yes--plenty!" Gwen thought to herself that old Mrs. Picture's
testamentary arrangements were of less importance than tranquillity, as
matters stood at present. "What did she say of Dave and Dolly?"

"She was put about to think how they would be told, if she died."

"How would they be told?... I can't think." Gwen asked herself the
question, and parried it.

Ruth Thrale escaped in a commonplace. The dear children would have to
be told, but they would not grieve for long. Children didn't.

Gwen hoped she was right--always a good thing to do. But what had her
mother said about the accident? Oh--the accident! Well--she remembered