Hester was comforted, but said that his spirits were not always what they had been: and she appealed to Margaret. Margaret declared that any failure of spirits in Edward was such a new idea, that she must consider before she gave an answer. She thought that he had been too busy to draw so many caricatures as usual lately; but she had observed no deeper signs of despondency than that. "Do not let us get into the habit of talking about spirits," said Hope. "I hear quite enough about that away from home; and I can assure you, professionally, that it is a bad subject to dwell upon. Every one who lives has variations of spirits: they are like the sunshine, or like Dr Levitt's last sermon, of which Mrs Enderby says every Sunday in the church porch--`It is to be felt, not talked about.'" "But, as a sign of health--" said Hester. "As a sign of health, my dear, the spirits of all this household may be left to my professional discrimination. Will you trust me, my dear?" "Oh, yes!" she uttered, with a sigh of relief. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. GRANDMAMMA IN RETREAT. "I am better now, Phoebe," said Mrs Enderby, sinking back faintly in her easy-chair, after one of her attacks of spasms. "I am better now; and if you will fan me for a minute or two, I shall be quite fit to see the children--quite delighted to have them." "I declare," said the maid, "here are the drops standing upon your face this cold day, as if it was August! But if the pain is cone, never mind anything else! And I, for one, won't say anything against your having the children in; for I'm sure the seeing your friends has done you no harm, and nothing but good." "Pray, draw up the blind, Phoebe, and let me see something of the sunshine. Bless me! how frosty the field looks, while I have been stifled with heat for this hour past! I had better not go to the window, however, for I begin to feel almost chilly already. Thank you, Phoebe; you have fanned me enough. Now call the children, Phoebe." Phoebe wrapped a cloak about her mistress's knees, pinned her shawl up closer around her throat, and went to call the children in from the parlour below. Matilda drew up her head and flattened her back, and then asked her grandmamma how she did. George looked up anxiously in the old lady's face. "Ah, George," said she, smiling; "it is an odd face to look at, is not it? How would you like your face to look as mine does?" "Not at all," said George. Mrs Enderby laughed heartily, and then told him that her face was not unlike his once--as round, and as red, and as shining in frosty weather. "Perhaps if you were to go out now into the frost, your face would look as it used to do." "I am afraid not. When my face looked like yours, it was when I was a little girl, and used to slide and make snowballs as you do. That was a long time ago. My face is wrinkled now, because I am old; and it is pale, because I am ill."