They promised heartily; and more than one of the women began to cry.

“A general assent will not satisfy me,” said Dr. Philip.  “I want every man, and every woman, to give me a hand upon it; then I shall feel sure of you.”

The men gave him their hands at once.  The women wiped their hands with their aprons, to make sure they were clean, and gave him their hands too.  The cook said, “If any one of us goes from it, this kitchen will be too hot to hold her.”

“Nobody will go from it, cook,” said the doctor.  “I’m not afraid of that; and now since you have promised me, out of your own good hearts, I’ll try and be even with you.  If she knows nothing of it by the tenth of March, five guineas to every man and woman in this kitchen.  You shall see that, if you can be kind, we can be grateful.”

He then hurried away.  He found Mr. Lusignan in the drawing-room, and told him all this.  Lusignan was fluttered, but grateful.  “Ah, my good friend,” said he, “this is a hard trial to two old men, like you and me.”

“It is,” said Philip.  “It has shown me my age.  I declare I am trembling; I, whose nerves were iron.  But I have a particular contempt for servants.  Mercenary wretches!  I think Heaven inspired me to talk to them.  After all, who knows? perhaps we might find a way to their hearts, if we did not eternally shock their vanity, and forget that it is, and must be, far greater than our own.  The women gave me their tears, and the men were earnest.  Not one hand lay cold in mine.  As for your kitchen-maid, I’d trust my life to that girl.  What a grip she gave me!  What strength!  What fidelity was in it!  My hand was never grasped before.  I think we are safe for a few days more.”

Lusignan sighed.  “What does it all come to?  We are pulling the trigger gently, that is all.”

“No, no; that is not it.  Don’t let us confound the matter with similes, please.  Keep them for children.”

Mrs. Staines left her bed; and would have left her room, but Dr. Philip forbade it strictly.

One day, seated in her arm-chair, she said to the nurse, before Dr. Philip, “Nurse, why do the servants look so curiously at me?”

Mrs. Briscoe cast a hasty glance at Dr. Philip, and then said, “I don’t know, madam.  I never noticed that.”

“Uncle, why did nurse look at you before she answered such a simple question?”

“I don’t know.  What question?”

“About the servants.”

“Oh, about the servants!” said he contemptuously.

“You should not turn up your nose at them, for they are all most kind and attentive.  Only, I catch them looking at me so strangely; really—­as if they—­”

“Rosa, you are taking me quite out of my depth.  The looks of servant girls!  Why, of course a lady in your condition is an object of especial interest to them.  I dare say they are saying to one another, ’I wonder when my turn will come!’ A fellow-feeling makes us wondrous kind—­that is a proverb, is it not?”