“That’s my brave little lad. Now I will take you and show you to my mother.” As Clara spoke she opened the door which divided the bedroom from the little sitting-room and brought Sir Piers into the sitting-room. The child came forward with his usual manly grace. He flung back his handsome little head and stared into the eyes of the old lady. “My word! what a fine little fellow!” she cried. “Come and kiss me, my little lad.” The boy held up his coral lips. “I like you,” he said softly. “Are you nurse’s mother?” “Yes, dear.” The old lady made room for Piers on her lap. “What a very wrinkled face you have,” he said. “No more wrinkles than I ought to have,” was the reply. “It’s becoming to have wrinkles when you’re turning a bit aged. It’s like the russet apple when it’s ripe—I’m ripe, and that’s why the wrinkles is there.” “Ripe,” said little Piers. He touched the old cheek with his tiny finger. “I like you,” he repeated after a pause. “I’m glad I made that promise.” “What promise, little un?” “Oh, something to Nurse Clara, but I mustn’t tell you. If I told you it would be breaking my word. Nurse, come here. I’m going to be a good boy, and I’m going to love your mother. If I love her and if I keep my word for a whole week, may I go home?” “Perhaps,” said Nurse Clara. Mrs. Ives fixed her shrewd eyes on her daughter. “There’s something at the back of all this,” thought the old lady to herself. “That boy is no ordinary patient. I’ll get to the bottom of it, or my name’s not Sarah Ives. It’s just like Clara, she was always one for mysteries.” “It’s a fine day,” said Mrs. Ives, getting up as she spoke and going to the window. “No, it isn’t; it rains,” said little Piers. “It did rain, but it’s fine now. Suppose I take you for a walk?” “Oh, yes,” said the child, clapping his hands. “But you mustn’t walk to-day,” said Nurse Clara. “It’s part of the cure; the doctor wishes him to stay indoors,” she continued, turning to her mother. Little Piers frowned. “I’m ever so much better, and the air would do me good,” he said. “You might send for the——” Nurse Ives held up a warning finger. “You are not to go out,” she said. “Mother, you are much too tired after your long journey to think of such a thing. I am going to leave you both now for a time, as I have got several things to buy. You look well after the child while I’m out, mother; you’ll be careful of him, won’t you?” “Careful!” said Mrs. Ives, “when I’ve had six of my own, and buried five of ’em. You’re the only one left, Clara, and your freckles was always a worry. I not understand how to look after a child! I don’t know what you mean.” “Of course, mother, you’re splendid with children. Well, I’ll be back in an hour or so.” Nurse Ives put on a smart hat—the hat was made of black lace—she covered her sandy locks and freckled face with a spotted veil, and, nodding to her mother and the child, went out.