“And then,” added his mother, “she would be more than delighted to go back to her country with a full purse. She would be able to buy a little house and a bit of ground--in that country one doesn’t need so much in order to live.” At this moment there was a tap upon the door, and the nurse entered. She was a country woman, robust, rosy-cheeked, fairly bursting with health. When she spoke one got the impression that her voice was more than she could contain. It did not belong in a drawing-room, but under the open sky of her country home. “Sir,” she said, addressing the doctor, “the baby is awake.” “I will go and see her,” was the reply; and then to Madame Dupont, “We will take up this conversation later on.” “Certainly,” said the mother. “Will you have need of the nurse?” “No, Madame,” the doctor answered. “Nurse,” said the mother, “sit down and rest. Wait a minute, I wish to speak to you.” As the doctor went out, she took her son to one side and whispered to him, “I know the way to arrange everything. If we let her know what is the matter, and if she accepts, the doctor will have nothing more to say. Isn’t that so?” “Obviously,” replied the son. “I am going to promise that we will give her two thousand francs when she goes away, if she will consent to continue nursing the child.” “Two thousand francs?” said the other. “Is that enough?” “I will see,” was the reply. “If she hesitates, I will go further. Let me attend to it.” George nodded his assent, and Madame Dupont returned to the nurse. “You know,” she said, “that our child is a little sick?” The other looked at her in surprise. “Why no, ma’am!” “Yes,” said the grandmother. “But, ma’am, I have taken the best of care of her; I have always kept her proper.” “I am not saying anything to the contrary,” said Madame Dupont, “but the child is sick, the doctors have said it.” The nurse was not to be persuaded; she thought they were getting ready to scold her. “Humph,” she said, “that’s a fine thing--the doctors! If they couldn’t always find something wrong you’d say they didn’t know their business.” “But our doctor is a great doctor; and you have seen yourself that our child has some little pimples.” “Ah, ma’am,” said the nurse, “that’s the heat--it’s nothing but the heat of the blood breaking out. You don’t need to bother yourself; I tell you it’s only the child’s blood. It’s not my fault; I swear to you that she had not lacked anything, and that I have always kept her proper.” “I am not reproaching you--” “What is there to reproach me for? Oh, what bad luck! She’s tiny--the little one--she’s a bit feeble; but Lord save us, she’s a city child! And she’s getting along all right, I tell you.” “No,” persisted Madame Dupont, “I tell you--she has got a cold in her head, and she has an eruption at the back of the throat.”