"She never said a word till the other day,—when I got home from here. I found her so bad, she couldn't keep up any longer,—and then she told." Marigold gave particulars, adding,—"Mother don't want to see a doctor, but father says she must; and he thought perhaps you'd advise us."
"She ought to do so without delay. I think I can help you. My brother, Dr. Wilton—a London surgeon—is coming to me next week for a few days; and he is particularly skilful in such matters. You must have seen him once at the Vicarage. I have a visit from him occasionally. No? You think not? Well, tell your father, but not Mrs. Plunkett. She would only grow nervous beforehand. I will bring him in one day; and she will like him, before she knows that he is a doctor. He has a most kind manner. Then he shall look into her health, and tell us what he thinks."
"I'm sure I can't thank you enough, ma'am. And father will be so glad."
"You shall thank me by listening now to something else that I have to say. Can you at all guess what it is about?"
Marigold shook her head; though the thought of Todd did come up, and when his name was uttered by Mrs. Heavitree, she felt no surprise.
"It has been said lately—with how much truth you know—that you and Todd are engaged to be married, or at least likely to be engaged."
"We're not engaged," said Marigold, flushing. "He's been in pretty often at home lately."
"And your father approves of it?"
"Father likes James. Mother did say one day that he wouldn't like that," added Marigold. "But I don't see how she knew."
"Probably your father had said so to her."