en."

She looked across to where Betty Tosswill and Timmy were standing. "Why,
yes!" she exclaimed, relieved. "If the young gentleman don't mind,
perhaps he would sit with Rosie. 'Tain't nothing infectious, you know,
sir, and it would please her like to have a visitor. She's got a book in
which there's a picture of a little sick girl and someone coming to see
her. She said to me yesterday, 'No one comes to see me, mother, 'cepting
doctor.'"

Radmore went off to the other two.

"The woman evidently feels that she ought to come up herself to the
house. But she's nervous about leaving her little girl. I was wondering
whether Timmy would mind staying and amusing the child? We might have
our picnic in the house itself, if it's in any way possible."

"What sort of a little girl is she?" began Timmy, but his godfather cut
him short.

"Never mind what sort of a little girl she is--she's longing for a
visitor, and you will be the first one to see her since she's been ill."

He turned to Betty. "Perhaps you'd like to go in and see what sort of a
place it is? Meanwhile I'll open the gate and get the car through."

Betty and Timmy followed the woman through the kitchen of the lodge to a
bedroom, where lay a pale-faced little girl of six. On the patchwork
counterpane were a pair of scissors and a big sheet of paper. It was
evident that the child had been trying to amuse herself by cutting out
patterns. As the visitors came in, she sat up, and her little face
flushed with joy. Here was her dream come true! Here were some
visitors--a beautiful lady in a peculiarly lovely blue bonnet, and a
pleasant-looking young gentleman too!

Timmy, who was quite unshy, went up to her bedside. "Good-morning," he
said in a polite, old-fashioned way. "I'm sorry you're ill, and I hope
you'll soon be quite well. I've come to look after you while your mother
goes up to the house with my godfather and my sister. If you like, I'll
cut you some beautiful fairy figures out of that paper, and then we can
pretend they're dancing."

He looked round and espied a chair, which he brought up close to the bed.

Rosie was far too excited and shy to speak.

"What's your name?" he began. "Mine is Timothy Godfrey Radmore Tosswill."

The little girl whispered "Rosamund."

"I've got a sister called Rosamund; now, isn't that curious?" cried
Timmy.

He had already seized the scissors, and was engaged in cutting out some
quaint, fantastic looking little figu