"Did—did any one else call it so?"
"Of course, or the young master would never have known of it. 'Let me have,' says he, 'just a branch or two of your ivy—what is its name, now?—for my corner of the house.' Well, of course, I told him its name, and how it came by it, which he said was a pretty name for ivy, or any other beautiful thing, and from that day a thrifty branch was trained over to the balcony where he sits most, and sometimes smokes of an evening."
"Yes, I remember," said Ruth, breaking into smiles. "Some climbing roses are tangled with it."
"True enough; they throve so fast, that between them, the little stone-steps that run up to the balcony were hid out of sight; but Lady Rose found them out, and carries her flowers that way from the garden when she fills the vases in his room."
"She always did that, I suppose," said Ruth, in a low voice.
"Most likely," answered the housekeeper, carelessly, as if that young creature did not hang on every word she uttered with unutterable anxiety. "Most likely. There is little else that she can do for him just now."
"Does he need so very much help now, godmother?"
"None that a dainty young lady can give; but when he begins to sit up, her time will come. Then she will sit and read to him from morning till night, and enjoy it too."
"And tire him dreadfully," muttered Ruth, with a dash of natural bitterness in her voice.
"I don't know. Anyway I shouldn't care about it; but people vary—people vary, Ruth! You will find that out as you get along in life. People vary!"