“Splendid, mother. You have taken excellent care of him, but you must go back with him to Cornwall to-morrow.” “He don’t like it; he’s mad to come back to his own folk. Why should he stay away from them?” “If he goes back you’ll lose your two pounds a week.” “Aye, there’s summat in that,” said the old woman. “I love my bit of money,” she continued after a pause. “I don’t believe in no bankses. I has my money in an old stocking at the back of the chimney. I has got a hundred and fifty pounds. When are we to go back, Clary?” “By the first train to-morrow. It is sheer madness of you to stay here. If you do such a thing again I must take the boy away and put him in the care of some one else, but I would rather he were with you, mother.” “You may as well leave him with me. I’ll look after him and tend him, and he loves me.” “Well, mother, here’s five pounds over and above what I generally give. This will be plenty for your fare and the boy’s back to Cornwall, and I will send you three pounds a week in the future if you will look after him well.” “Three pounds a week?” said the old woman. “That’s twelve pounds a month—a deal of money—a deal! I’ll look after him a bit longer then, Clary, but don’t try me too much, for I can’t abear his little cry of ‘I’ve a secret, but you mustn’t guess; and if you knew who my people were you’d take me home, wouldn’t you, grannie?’ That’s his little cry, and he’s such a grand, brave little chap. I don’t know what you’re after, but it’s evil, I make no doubt. You ain’t my sort—you don’t go to your chapel reg’lar, and you don’t say your prayers reg’lar. And duck green is your complexion, and your freckles is spreading. Now I’ll say good night, for if you ain’t tired I am.” Mrs. Ives held up her mouth as she spoke to Clara’s sallow cheek. The daughter scarcely returned her salutation. Wrapped in thought she left the house. She ran down-stairs and let herself out, returning to the house in Harley Street some time after one o’clock. As she stood on the steps fumbling for her latch-key, her husband confronted her. “Where have you been?” he asked. “To see an old patient.” “I thought you had given up nursing.” “I had a message from an old patient who wished particularly to see me—a message which I could not refuse.” “Your mother brought it to you, didn’t she?” “How did you know my mother was here, Luke?” “I saw you go out with her. What did she come about?” “I have just told you she brought a message from a patient, Luke. I did not know you were curious.” “I am not the least curious,” he replied. “To be curious signifies an interest in a person. As I do not take the slightest interest in you I am not curious. Now, I have much to do, and will wish you good night.”