“You will excuse me saying,” said the lawyer, “that I can’t listen to anything of this kind. Ladies go a long way I know in what they permit themselves to say of each other, but with men of the world, madam, libels can’t be indulged in. Mrs. John Parke----” “Oh!” said Mrs. Hill, breathing out fire and fury in the word, “what has Mrs. John Parke to do with my child--or with my grandchild, Mr. Blotting? We have no object but their good. We want nothing but their good. If anything were to happen to little Mar it would be my death. Oh, can’t you see, can’t you see the difference? I don’t say she would poison him or throw him out of a window,” cried the old lady, flushed and trembling with her vehemence. “But it would be for her good that the child should die. Do you hear me, oh do you hear me! It would be to her advantage that the child should die, the dear child, the apple of our eyes. It would give her husband the title--and herself which is more:--it would make her boy the heir. And you will put him in her hands, our little delicate boy, our little darling, poor Frogmore’s little Mar! Oh vicar, speak to him. Oh Agnes, say something--don’t let them throw little Mar’s life away!” “I can only say,” said the vicar, shuffling about with his large feet, “that we’re Lady Frogmore’s parents, and the child’s guardians by--by nature. I can’t see what there’s more to say.” “It’s clear that I can hear no more,” said the lawyer, “it’s painful to see such animosity. Still we know what ladies are. Had anything been necessary to show how impossible---- But there never could have been any question of such a thing,” he continued sharply. “Mr. Hill, you ought to be enough a man of the world to see that the mother’s parents have nothing to do with the matter. Why, it’s ridiculous. The mother herself is no more than a sort of accident. What I’ve got to think of is the Parkes, the family. It is astonishing you don’t understand.” “Mr. Blotting,” said Agnes, “my mother perhaps went too far. We don’t want to show prejudice. Still the child is a delicate child--and he’s been used to us all his life--to me, at least--I’ve been the same as his mother,” she said, with the tears in his eyes. “I know all he requires--their treatment might be dangerous for him. Don’t take him from us until he’s older and stronger. I don’t ask anything unreasonable. Mrs. Parke, I don’t doubt, would be--very kind: but she’s used to robust children--and little Mar is so delicate.” “She is pleading as if it was a favor,” cried Mrs. Hill, “as if we had no right----”