“Don’t name it, mum,” replied the windmiller’s wife. “I always say if children be to have things, they’ll have ’em; and if not, why they won’t.” A theory which seems to sum up the views of the majority of people in Mrs. Lake’s class of life upon the spread of disease. “I’m sure I don’t know what’s coming to my poor head,” the nurse continued: “I’ve not so much as told you who I am, ma’am. I’m nurse at the Grange, ma’am, with Mr. Ammaby and Lady Louisa. They’ve been in town, and her ladyship’s had the very best advice, and now we’ve come to the country for three months, but the dear child don’t seem a bit the better. And we’ve been trying every thing, I’m sure. For any thing I heard of I’ve tried, as well as what the doctor ordered, and rubbing it with some stuff Lady Louisa’s mamma insisted upon, too,—even to a frog put into the dear child’s mouth, and drawed back by its legs, that’s supposed to be a certain cure, but only frightened it into a fit I thought it never would have come out of, as well as fetching her ladyship all the way from her boudoir to know what was the matter—which I no more dared tell her than fly.” “Dear, dear!” said the miller’s wife; “have you tried goose-grease, mum? ’Tis an excellent thing.” “Goose-grease, ma’am, and an excellent ointment from the bone-setter’s at the toll-bar, which the butler paid for out of his own pocket, knowing it to have done a world of good to his sister that had a bad leg, besides being a certain cure for coughs, and cancer, and consumption as well. And then the doctor’s _imprecation_ on its little chest, night and morning, besides; but nothing don’t seem to do no good,” said the poor nurse. “And so, ma’am,—her ladyship being gone to the town,—thinks I, I’ll take the dear child to the windmill. For they do say,—where I came from, ma’am,—that if a miller, that’s the son of a miller, and the grandson of a miller, holds a child that’s got the whooping-cough in the hopper of the mill whilst the mill’s going, it cures them, however bad they be.” The reason of the nurse’s visit being now made known, Mrs. Lake called her husband, and explained to him what he was asked to do for “her ladyship’s baby.” The miller scratched his head. “I’ve heard my father say that his brother that drove a mill in Cheshire had had it to do,” said he, “but I never did it myself, ma’am, nor ever see un done. And a hopper be an ackerd place, ma’am. We’ve ground many a cat in this mill, from getting in the hopper at nights for warmth. However,” he added, “I suppose I can hold the little lady pretty tight.” And finally, though with some unwillingness, the miller consented to try the charm; being chiefly influenced by the wish not to disoblige the gentlefolk at the Grange.