"Mrs. Morris will, no doubt, call one in if necessary."
"But Winnie said you would know you would tell them, if she ought. She almost seemed to think her mother wouldn't do anything without asking you first. Funny—wasn't it?" Doris stopped, noting the tension of his face, and he spoke with constraint—
"It is kind of you to feel an interest in the girl. She is delicate; and I believe not much can be done for her. Mrs. Morris must herself decide whether to have a doctor."
"Yes,—so I should have thought, but for what Winnie said. Poor girl, I'm so sorry for her. One day she fainted in church, and she says she almost always has pain. It must be frightfully hard to bear. And she looks so patient! I mean to cycle over sometimes, and try to cheer her up. I should like to know her better."
"You must be careful. The elder girl is pushing. Your mother would dislike the companionship for you."
Doris laughed merrily. "Oh, that is nothing. We 'clergy-folk' have to know everybody, and we don't mind. I'm not in the very least afraid of being taken for one of Jane Morris's friends!" No young princess could have held herself with more stateliness than Doris at that moment. "It's odd, two sisters being so unlike. Somebody said that Jane lived for years with her mother's relatives—not dear old Farmer Paine, of course, but others—and that she got into their ways. But I should like to be a friend to poor Winnie."
"I think you should be cautious. Better not to take steps in a hurry, and then have to draw back."
He left Doris vaguely impressed, and rather puzzled also, and made his way to Wyldd's Farm.
Jane was out, and he had first a private talk with Mrs. Morris. Then he returned to the sitting-room, and took a chair by Winnie's side. She was on the sofa, suffering too much to sit up. His manner had a touch of coldness, and she scanned him with anxious eyes.
"Winnie, I don't wish to find fault, and you are not to distress yourself. But I have a request to make."