He spoke with the asthma pant, and a throb of the lean throat that she could not bear to see.  His head was propped high, so that they squarely faced each other.  His eyes were full of tenderness and content—­hers of tears.

“You have been pretty lonely yourself, by all accounts,” said he, stroking her hand.  “It’s odd to think of you in that case, Debbie.”

“I’ve felt it odd myself,” she smiled, with a whisk of her handkerchief.  “But, like you, I am getting used to it.”

“Where’s Dalzell all this time?” “Don’t know.  Don’t care.  Please don’t talk of him.”

“Nobody else—?”

“Oh, dear, no!  Never will be.  I am going to take up nursing or something.”

“You!” he mocked.

“Do you suppose I can’t?  Wait till I have got you over this attack, and then tell me if I can’t.  I am going to stay with you, godpapa, until you are better.  I have spoken to your housekeeper, and she is quite agreeable—­if you are.”

He did not think it necessary to reply to that hint, but just smiled and closed his eyes.  She took up a palm-leaf fan and fanned him, watching him anxiously.  It was a roasting February day, and he was breathing very badly.

“Have you given up your house?” he asked, when he could speak.

“Long ago.  No use my staying there alone.  Besides, I could not afford it.”

“Francie not much good to you, I suppose?”

“Oh, I don’t want her to be good to me.”

“Keziah Moon hasn’t deserted you, of course?”

“Oh, Keziah—­she was moped to death, poor old woman—­I found her a nuisance.  And then those babies of Rose’s were so irresistible.  I thought she’d better go.  As Rose’s head-nurse, I believe she is in her element.”

“Is Rose happy with her draper?”

“I don’t know—­I suppose so.”

“You don’t see much of her?”

“Not much.”

“And Mary?”

“I haven’t seen her for months.  Her husband and I don’t hit it off, somehow.”

“Deb, how much have you to live on?”

“That’s my business, sir.”

“Not the business of a doting godfather—­in the absence of nearer male relatives?”

“No.  His business is only to see that I learn the catechism and present myself to be confirmed; and I’ve done both.”

“That all?”

“Except to let his doting godchild take care of him when he is ill.  Now —­don’t talk any more.”

He was too exhausted to do so.  And while he lay feebly fighting for breath, the trained nurse came in and took command.

In the evening that functionary gave a professional opinion.

“He is worried about something,” she said to Deb, “and it is very bad for him.  Do you know what it is?”

“Not in the least,” said Deb promptly.  “I have not been seeing him for years, I am sorry to say, and have not the slightest knowledge of his affairs.”