"The widow lady?"
"I live with mamma," I said shortly.
"Been very ill, hasn't she?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah! bad thing illness, I suppose. Never was ill, only when the wagon
went over my leg."
"Yes, sir, she has been very bad."
I was fidgeting to go, but he took hold of one of the ends of my little
check silk tie, and kept fiddling it about between his finger and thumb.
"What's the matter?"
"Dr Morrison told Mrs Beeton, our landlady, that it was decline, sir."
"And then Mrs Beeton told you?"
"No, sir, I heard the doctor tell her."
"And then you went and frightened the poor thing and made her worse by
telling her?"
"No, I did not, sir," I said warmly.
"Why not?"
"Because I thought it might make her worse."
"Humph! Hah! Poor dear lady!" he said more softly. "Looked too ill to
come to church last Sunday, boy. Flowers and fruit for her?"