On one occasion she caught an evil from a house full of sickness and brought it home, so that David, too, fell ill and was from his work for three days. When the doctor came and bade him keep within doors, he turned on his wife, and for the first time she saw him angry with her. The incident passed; the sting lasted a long while. Her attitude to Dorcas won a milder reprimand; but here she was obstinate and asserted her own liberty of action. She visited Dorcas; rejoiced in her happiness and content, and congratulated her on the reformation she had achieved in her husband. But David held off and waited to see Billy Screech return to his irregular ways; while Rhoda kept her word and saw her sister no more. It happened that David found his wife on an afternoon in autumn going to the house of Mr. Screech with a basket on her arm. She never openly irritated him by visiting his sister under his eyes, though her friendship with Dorcas was not hidden; but now it chanced that husband and wife unexpectedly met. She was on foot and he rode. She smiled and stopped. He nodded and asked where she was going with a full basket. "Not to they Fosters, Madge? There’s some bad catching sickness there, and I won’t have it. I can’t afford no more of that nonsense." "I’m going to see Dorcas." "What for?" "Because her li’l chap’s queer. Nothing at all, David--only a bit of a tissick on the chest. And I’ve made up some cautcheries[#] after a recipe of mother’s for him. And this here’s a bit of that big, blue-vinnied cheese as you said we never should be able to eat. ’Tis a pity to waste it." [#] Physic. "Anything else?" "No--except a pint of whortleberries what I gathered yesterday; and a couple of they pigs’ trotters for your sister." "Can’t they pick their own whortleberries?" "Dorcas be a thought poorly herself. There’s another little one coming a’ready." He frowned and sat still on his horse, looking straight between its ears. "Always swarm where they ban’t wanted--like bees," he said. Then he turned to Margaret. "Give me that food. Let Screech buy his own cheese. I’m going up over to see my mother. I’ll carry it to her." He held out his hand and she took the cheese from her basket and gave it to him. "And no more of this, my dear. I’m not going to keep other people’s children--because I haven’t got none of my own. And don’t you never think so, Madge; because if you do, you’ll think wrong. Good-bye for the present. Don’t think ’tis hard: ’tis only sense."