‘You remain in the house?’ Kirkwood asked as they went downstairs.

’I stay with her through the night.  I didn’t feel much confidence in the doctor that was seeing her, so I made inquiries and found a better man.’

When they reached the Close, the door was opened to them by Clem Peckover.  She glared haughtily at Sidney, but uttered no word.  To Kirkwood’s surprise, they went up to the Hewetts’ back-room.  The mattress that formerly lay upon the floor had been removed; the bed was occupied by the sick girl, with whom at present Mrs. Peckover was sitting.  That benevolent person rose on seeing Sidney, and inclined her head with stateliness.

‘She’s just fell asleep,’ was her whispered remark.  ’I shouldn’t say myself as it was good to wake her up, but of course you know best.’

This was in keeping with the attitude Mrs. Peckover had adopted as soon as she understood Snowdon’s resolve to neglect no precaution on the child’s behalf.  Her sour dignity was meant to express that she felt hurt at the intervention of others where her affections were so nearly concerned.  Sidney could not help a certain fear when he saw this woman installed as sick-nurse.  It was of purpose that he caught her eye and regarded her with a gravity she could scarcely fail to comprehend.

Jane awoke from her fitful slumber.  She looked with but half-conscious fearfulness at the figures darkening her view.  Sidney moved so that his face was in the light, and, bending near to her, asked if she recognised him.  A smile—­slow-forming, but unmistakable at last—­amply justified what her grandfather had said.  She made an effort to move her hand towards him.  Sidney responded to her wish, and again she smiled, self-forgetfully, contentedly.

Snowdon turned to Mrs. Peckover, and, after a few words with regard to the treatment that was being pursued, said that he would now relieve her; she lingered, but shortly left the room.  Sidney, sitting by the bed, in a few minutes saw that Jane once more slept, or appeared to do so.  He whispered to Snowdon that he was going to see his friends in the next room, and would look in again before leaving.

His tap at the door was answered by Amy, who at once looked back and said: 

‘Can Mr. Kirkwood come in, mother?’

‘Yes; I want to see him,’ was the answer.

Mrs. Hewett was lying in bed; she looked, if possible, more wretchedly ill than four days ago.  On the floor were two mattresses, covered to make beds for the children.  The baby, held in its mother’s arms, was crying feebly.

‘Why, I hoped you were getting much better by now,’ said Sidney.

Mrs. Hewett told him that she had been to the hospital on Saturday, and seemed to have caught cold.  A common enough occurrence; hours of waiting in an out-patients’ room frequently do more harm than the doctor’s advice can remedy.  She explained that Mrs. Peckover had requested the use of the other room.