"Nobody does, doctor," she replied, parrying the
question, her face flushing with pleasure.

Here Martha entered the room hurriedly and
bending over Jane's shoulder, whispered something
in her ear. The doctor straightened himself and
leaned back out of hearing.

"Well, but I don't think she will take cold,"
Jane whispered in return, looking up into Martha's
face. "Has she anything around her?"

"Yes, your big red cloak; but the child's head is
bare and there's mighty little on her neck, and she
ought to come in. The wind's begun to blow and it's
gettin' cold."

"Where is she?" Jane continued, her face showing
her surprise at Martha's statement.

"Out by the gate with that dare-devil. He don't
care who he gives cold. I told her she'd get her
death, but she won't mind me."

"Why, Martha, how can you talk so!" Jane retorted,
with a disapproving frown. Then raising her
voice so that the doctor could be brought into the
conversation, she added in her natural tone, "Whom
did you say she was with?"