"You've guessed right this time. Is there--is there any chance of his coming?" asked Miss Nippett wistfully. "There's every chance. The doctor was going to tell him how ill you were." "But you don't understand; these great, big, famous men ain't like me and you. They--they forget and--" Tears gathered in the red rims of Miss Nippett's eyes. Mavis wiped them gently away and softly kissed the puckered brow. "There's somethin' I'd like to tell you," said Miss Nippett, some minutes later. "Try and get some sleep," urged Mavis. "But I want to tell someone. It isn't as if you was a larruping girl who'd laugh, but you're a wife, an' ever so big at that, with what you're expectin' next week." "What is it?" asked Mavis. "Bend over: you never know oo's listening." Mavis did as she was asked. "It's Mr Poulter--can't you guess?" faltered Miss Nippett. "Tell me, dear." "I b'lieve I love him: reely I do. Don't laugh." "Why should I?" "There was nothing in it--don't run away thinking there was--but how could there be, 'im so great and noble and famous, and me--" Increasing weakness would not suffer Miss Nippett to finish the sentence. Mavis forced her to take some nourishment, after which, Miss Nippett lay back on her pillow, with her eyes fixed on the clock. Mavis sat in the chair by the bedside. Now and again, her eyes would seek the timepiece. Whenever she heard a sound downstairs (for some time the people of the house could be heard moving about), Miss Nippett would listen intently and then look wistfully at Mavis. The girl divined how heartfully the dying woman hungered for Mr Poulter's coming. Thrice Mavis offered to seek him out, but on each occasion Miss Nippett's terrified pleadings not to be left alone constrained her to stay. It wanted a few minutes to eight when Miss Nippett fell into a peaceful doze. Mavis took this opportunity of making herself a much-needed cup of tea. Whilst she was gratefully sipping it, Miss Nippett suddenly awoke to say: "There! There's something I always meant to do." "Never mind now," said Mavis soothingly. "But I do. It is something to mind about--I never stood 'Turpsichor' a noo coat of paint." "Don't worry about it." "I always promised I would, but kep' putting it off an' off, an' now she'll never get it from me. Poor old 'Turpsichor'!" Miss Nippett soon forgot her neglect of "Turpsichor" and fell into a further doze. When she next awoke, she asked: "Would you mind drawing them curtains?" "Like that?" "You are good to me: reely you are." "Nonsense!" "But then you ought to be: you've got a good man to love you an' give you babies." "What is it you want?" asked Mavis sadly. "Can you see the 'Scrubbs'?" "The prison?" "Yes, the 'Scrubbs.' Can you see 'em?" "Yes." "Quite distinct?" "Quite." "That's awright." Miss Nippett sighed with some content. "If 'e don't come soon, 'e'll be too late," murmured Miss Nippett after an interval of seeming exhaustion.