Constance blushed, full of pride. Mrs. Povey, wife of "our Mr. Povey's" renowned cousin, the high-class confectioner and baker in Boulton Terrace, was a frequent subject of discussion in the Baines family, but this was absolutely the first time that Mrs. Baines had acknowledged, in presence of Constance, the marked and growing change which had characterized Mrs. Povey's condition during recent months. Such frankness on the part of her mother, coming after the decision about leaving school, proved indeed that Constance had ceased to be a mere girl. "Good morning, doctor." The doctor, who carried a little bag and wore riding-breeches (he was the last doctor in Bursley to abandon the saddle for the dog-cart), saluted and straightened his high, black stock. "Morning! Morning, missy! Well, it's a boy." "What? Yonder?" asked Mrs. Baines, indicating the confectioner's. Dr. Harrop nodded. "I wanted to inform him," said he, jerking his shoulder in the direction of the swaggering coward. "What did I tell you, Constance?" said Mrs. Baines, turning to her daughter. Constance's confusion was equal to her pleasure. The alert doctor had halted at the foot of the two steps, and with one hand in the pocket of his "full-fall" breeches, he gazed up, smiling out of little eyes, at the ample matron and the slender virgin. "Yes," he said. "Been up most of th' night. Difficult! Difficult!" "It's all RIGHT, I hope?" "Oh yes. Fine child! Fine child! But he put his mother to some trouble, for all that. Nothing fresh?" This time he lifted his eyes to indicate Mr. Baines's bedroom. "No," said Mrs. Baines, with a different expression. "Keeps cheerful?" "Yes." "Good! A very good morning to you." He strode off towards his house, which was lower down the street. "I hope she'll turn over a new leaf now," observed Mrs. Baines to Constance as she closed the door. Constance knew that her mother was referring to the confectioner's wife; she gathered that the hope was slight in the extreme. "What did you want to speak to me about, mother?" she asked, as a way out of her delicious confusion. "Shut that door," Mrs. Baines replied, pointing to the door which led to the passage; and while Constance obeyed, Mrs. Baines herself shut the staircase-door. She then said, in a low, guarded voice-- "What's all this about Sophia wanting to be a school-teacher?" "Wanting to be a school-teacher?" Constance repeated, in tones of amazement. "Yes. Hasn't she said anything to you?" "Not a word!" "Well, I never! She wants to keep on with Miss Chetwynd and be a teacher." Mrs. Baines had half a mind to add that Sophia had mentioned London. But she restrained herself. There are some things which one cannot bring one's self to say. She added, "Instead of going into the shop!" "I never heard of such a thing!" Constance murmured brokenly, in the excess of her astonishment. She was rolling up Mr. Povey's tape-measure. "Neither did I!" said Mrs. Baines.