‘Whew!’ he whistled; ‘why, what’s the matter with the little chap—is he ill?’ ‘Oh no! he’s not ill. He is perfectly well. You don’t think he looks ill, madam?’ said the girl who was carrying him, anxiously. ‘I don’t think I ever saw a child so changed in my life,’ I answered, in my blunt fashion. ‘Are you the wet-nurse Mrs Maclean told me she had engaged for him?’ ‘Yes, madam,’ she said, in a very low voice. I raised my eyes, and examined her then for the first time thoroughly; and I could not help observing what a remarkable-looking girl she was. She had the very palest and clearest of complexions—so colourless that it looked like the finest white wax, and her skin was of the texture of satin. Her large, clear, grey eyes, which shone with a limpid light, like agates with water running over them, had a startled look, which might almost have been mistaken for fear, and her delicately cut mouth drooped in the most pathetic manner. To add to the mournfulness of her appearance, her hair was almost completely hidden beneath her cap, and her dress was the deepest widow’s mourning. I made a few indifferent remarks about the child, kissed it, and jumped up to my seat again. The nurse was not the person I felt to whom to speak on the subject of the baby’s appearance. She made a deep reverence as the carriage moved off, and I saw she was a very superior sort of young woman; but of what account was that, where little Dick’s health, and perhaps his life, was concerned? ‘Bessie’s a greater fool than I took her for,’ I exclaimed, indignantly, as we drove on towards the house. ‘What’s in the wind now?’ said Dick. ‘Fancy, choosing a wet-nurse for a baby all crape and bombazine and tears. Why, that girl looks as if she cried night and day. I knew Bessie had been weak enough to be persuaded by the doctor to give up nursing baby herself, but she might have exercised a little discretion in the choice of a substitute. The child is half the size he was last month.’ ‘What a lot we know about babies!’ said Dick, in his chaffing way. ‘I should hope I know more than half the mothers I meet,’ I continued, with some warmth. ‘I should be ashamed to be as ignorant as Bessie herself, for instance, though she _has_ had six children,’ I added, with a little droop in my voice. ‘My own Dolly!’ said Dick, fondly; and when he says those words in that voice, I don’t care for anything else in all the wide, wide world. He wouldn’t stay—even to dismount from his box, for we knew Mr Maclean had already left the house, and he thought our chatter would get on better without him, added to which he had duties demanding him at home. So I gave him one long, long kiss, and let him go; and as soon as he was out of sight, turned into the door of Poplar Farm.