poor, thin-looking child.'

Sidney was conscious that the old man did not give expression to all
he thought. This mutual exercise of tact seemed, however, to
encourage a good understanding between them rather than the reverse.

'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