Stump! stump!  Was she coming?  His mother was answering something too soft for him to hear.

‘What, is he asleep?’

‘O Mother, must you speak the truth?’

’Bless me!  I should have thought a little cheerful company was good for him.  Do you leave him quite alone?  Well—­’ and there was a frightful noise of the foot of the heaviest chair on the floor.  ‘I’ll sit down and wait a bit!  Is he so very fractious, then?’

What was his mother saying?  Alfred clenched his fist, and grinned anger at Betsey with closed teeth.  There was the tiresome old word, ’Low—­ay, so’s my mother; but you should rise his spirits with company, you see; that’s why I came over; as soon as ever I heard that there wasn’t no hope of him, says I to Mother—­’

What?  What was that she had heard?  There was his mother, probably trying to restrain her voice, for it came up now just loud enough to make it most distressing to try to catch the words, which sounded like something pitying.  ’Ay, ay—­just like his poor father; when they be decliny, it will come out one ways or another; and says I to Mother, I’ll go over and cheer poor Cousin King up a bit, for you see, after all, if he’d lived, he’d be nothing but a burden, crippled up like that; and a lingering job is always bad for poor folks.’

Alfred leant upon his elbow, his eyes full stretched, but feeling as if all his senses had gone into his ears, in his agony to hear more; and he even seemed to catch his mother’s voice, but there was no hope in that; it was of her knowing it would be all for the best; and the sadness of it told him that she believed the same as Betsey.  Then came, ’Yes; I declare it gave me such a turn, you might have knocked me down with a feather.  I asked Mr. Blunt to come in and see what’s good for Mother, she feels so weak at times, and has such a noise in her head, just like the regiment playing drums, she says, till she can’t hardly bear herself; and so what do you think he says?  Don’t wrap up her head so warm, says he—­a pretty thing for a doctor to say, as if a poor old creature like that, past seventy years old, could go without a bit of flannel to her head, and her three night-caps, and a shawl over them when there’s a draught.  I say, Cousin, I ha’n’t got much opinion of Mr. Blunt.  Why don’t you get some of them boxes of pills, that does cures wonderful?  Ever so many lords and ladies cured of a perplexity fit, by only just taking an imposing draught or two.’

Another time Alfred would have laughed at the very imposing draught, that was said to cure lords and ladies of this jumble between apoplexy and paralysis; but this was no moment for laughing, and he was in despair at fancying his mother wanted to lead her off on the quack medicine; but she went on.