"He means the doctor from Worcester, Sir Geoffry," put in old Mrs. Layne. She was sitting in her easy-chair near, as she had been previously; her spectacles keeping the place between the leaves of the closed Bible, which she had again taken on her lap; her withered hands, in their black lace mittens and frilled white ruffles, were crossed upon the Book. Every now and then she nodded with incipient sleep. "I am so very sorry this should have happened," Sir Geoffry said, turning to Mrs. Layne. "The little fellow was running up to get a look at the peacock, it seems; and I was riding rather fast. I shall never ride fast round that corner again." "But, Sir Geoffry, they tell me that the child ran right against you at the corner: that it was no fault of yours at all, sir." "It was my fault, grandmamma," said Arthur. "And, Sir Geoffry, that's why I wanted to write to papa; I want to tell him so." "I think I had better write for you," said Sir Geoffry, looking down at the boy with a smile. "Will you? Shall you tell him it was my fault?" "No. I shall tell him it was mine." "But it was not yours. You must not write what is not true. If Aunt Mary thought I could tell a story, or write one, oh, I don't know what she'd do. God hears all we say, you know." Sir Geoffry smiled--a sad smile--at the earnest words, at the eager look in the bright eyes. Involuntarily the wish came into his mind that _he_ had a brave, fearless-hearted, right-principled son, such as this boy evidently was. "Then I think I had better describe how it happened, and let Major Layne judge for himself whether it was my fast riding or your fast running that caused the mischief." "You'll tell about the peacock? It had its tail out." "Of course I'll tell about the peacock. I shall say to Major Layne that his little boy--I don't think I have heard your name," broke off Sir Geoffry. "What is it?" "It's Arthur. Papa's is Richard. My big brother's is Richard too; he is at King's College. Which name do you like best?" "I think I like Arthur best. It is my own name also." "Yours is Sir Geoffry." "And Arthur as well." But at this juncture old Mrs. Layne, having started up from a nod, interposed to put a summary stop to the chatter, telling Arthur crossly that Mr. Duffham and the other doctor had forbid him to talk much. And then she begged pardon of Sir Geoffry for saying it, but thought the doctors wished the child to be kept quiet and cool. Sir Geoffry took the opportunity to say adieu to the little patient. "May I come to see the peacock when I get well, Sir Geoffry?" "Certainly. You shall come and look at him for a whole day if grandmamma will allow you to." Grandmamma gave no motion or word of assent, but Arthur took it for granted. "Betsy can bring me if Aunt Mary won't; Betsy's my nurse. I wish I could have him before that window to look at while I lie here to get well. I like peacocks and musical boxes better than anything in the world."