"I’ll get him a chair," said Edmund, pushing in under his guardian’s arm, for the door was very narrow. "I thought I’d show him to you before you came to-morrow, then you won’t feel strange with any of us." There wasn’t much room in that bedroom. The bed took up most of the floor and there was only one other chair besides Jane-Anne’s, so Edmund sat on the end of the bed. "You must make haste and get strong," Mr. Wycherly said kindly, "and if this fine weather goes on you’ll be able to sit in the garden and get plenty of fresh air that way! And when you are able we must see about a little drive. That ought to be good for you." "Oh!" exclaimed Jane-Anne. "Oh! I don’t know how I shall wait till to-morrow, I want to come so much." "Let’s get a cab and take her now," Edmund suggested; "it would be a lark, and such a surprise for Mrs. Dew." Jane-Anne looked from Edmund to Mr. Wycherly, but saw that the enchanting proposition found no favour in his eyes. "We mustn’t do that," he said, "we haven’t got the doctor’s permission, and I don’t think Mrs. Dew has got her room ready yet." "This bed’s coming for me to-morrow," Jane-Anne said shyly. "The things in this room are Aunt’s." "You won’t be such a squash in the room you’re going to have," Edmund remarked. "It’s not a big room but you’ll be able to get round the furniture better." "It will be so lovelly to have a little room of my own," Jane-Anne said softly. "I hope you will sleep well in it, and get strong," said Mr. Wycherly. "And I am sure Mrs. Dew will make it as pretty for you as possible. And now, my child, we must go. I don’t think you are very fit for visitors as yet, and we mustn’t tire you. We just looked in to tell you how welcome you will be to-morrow." "We’ve got a bathroom, you know," Edmund said proudly, anxious to do the honours of their house. "Hot and cold and a squirty thing for washing your head, you can use it for the rest of you, too, if you like, but it makes rather a mess. It’s in the basin really, and we do each other sometimes. I do like a bathroom, don’t you?" Jane-Anne murmured her appreciation of that luxury, and Mr. Wycherly held out his hand to her, and she gave him hers; such a nervous little hand, so thin and hectic and fluttering: yet it grew still as it lay in his, and there seemed some subtle contact in its gentle clasp. The child’s eyes and the old man’s met in a long gaze that asked and promised much. The eager, hungry little face grew a thought dim to Mr. Wycherly, it was so wistful and so wan. Instead of good-bye, he said, "God bless you, my child, God bless you," and went out of the room rather quickly. Edmund’s farewells were longer, and Mr. Wycherly waited patiently for him in the sunny street. He had gone out so quietly that Miss Morecraft never heard him. She heard Edmund, though, and hastened to the door to speed the parting guest. Jane-Anne, faint with rapture, lay crumpled up in her chair.