“Does it worry you?”

“Give me the ’lectric, same as they have at the Athenaeum on long nights.”

Mavis did as she was bid:  the light of the lamp at once became an illumination of some importance.

“Now I want me shawl on again; the old one.”  “Don’t you want any nourishment?” asked Mavis, as she fastened the familiar shawl about Miss Nippett’s shoulders.

“What’s the use?”

“To get better, of course.”

“No getting better for me.  I know:  reely I do.”

“Nonsense!”

Miss Nippett shook her head as resolutely as her bodily weakness permitted.

“What’s the time?” she asked presently.

Mavis told her.

“Whatever ’appens, I shall go down to posterity as a partner in ’Poulter’s’!”

“You’ve no business to think of such things,” faltered Mavis.

“It’s no use codding me.  I know; reely I do.”

“Then, if you don’t believe me, wouldn’t you like to see a clergyman?”

“There’s someone else I’d much sooner see.”

“Mr Poulter?”

“You’ve guessed right this time.  Is there—­is there any chance of his coming?” asked Miss Nippett wistfully.

“There’s every chance.  The doctor was going to tell him how ill you were.”

“But you don’t understand; these great, big, famous men ain’t like me and you.  They—­they forget and—­” Tears gathered in the red rims of Miss Nippett’s eyes.  Mavis wiped them gently away and softly kissed the puckered brow.

“There’s somethin’ I’d like to tell you,” said Miss Nippett, some minutes later.

“Try and get some sleep,” urged Mavis.

“But I want to tell someone.  It isn’t as if you was a larruping girl who’d laugh, but you’re a wife, an’ ever so big at that, with what you’re expectin’ next week.”

“What is it?” asked Mavis.

“Bend over:  you never know oo’s listening.”

Mavis did as she was asked.

“It’s Mr Poulter—­can’t you guess?” faltered Miss Nippett.

“Tell me, dear.”

“I b’lieve I love him:  reely I do.  Don’t laugh.”

“Why should I?”

“There was nothing in it—­don’t run away thinking there was—­but how could there be, ’im so great and noble and famous, and me—­”

Increasing weakness would not suffer Miss Nippett to finish the sentence.

Mavis forced her to take some nourishment, after which, Miss Nippett lay back on her pillow, with her eyes fixed on the clock.  Mavis sat in the chair by the bedside.  Now and again, her eyes would seek the timepiece.  Whenever she heard a sound downstairs (for some time the people of the house could be heard moving about), Miss Nippett would listen intently and then look wistfully at Mavis.

The girl divined how heartfully the dying woman hungered for Mr Poulter’s coming.

Thrice Mavis offered to seek him out, but on each occasion Miss Nippett’s terrified pleadings not to be left alone constrained her to stay.