Peter weakly concluded with a sigh.
"Bring Tamsin down an' help me here," said Caleb, from across the room.
The pair started.
"That es," he went on, "ef she'll come. You heerd maaster? Well, he said purty much the same to her yestiddy; so her won't be frightened. Leastways, go an' say you'm comin' yoursel' to help nuss; 'cos ef you won't I'll nuss 'un alone, an' ef that's the case, you'm a queer pair o' Christians, as the Devil said to the two black pigs."
"Fact es," hesitated Peter, "I'd a-larnt so much las' evenin' from Tamsin, though she were main loth to tell; an' Paul agreed as we'd call this mornin' an' tell Mr. Fogo as 'twarn't right for 'n to set hes thoughts 'pon Tamsin, who isn' a leddy, nor to put notions in her head as'll gi'e her pain hereafter. An' that's all 'bout et; an' us brought a whack o' vegetable produce 'long wi' us, jes' to show there was no ill-feelin's. But as et turns out, neither argyment nor vegetables bein' acceptable to a party that's sick wi' a fever, I be clane floored for what to do."
"Well, now, I've a-told 'ee. An' don't let the grass grow 'neath your feet, 'cos 'twill grow fast enough over your heads some day."
The Twins, unable to cope with Caleb's determination, stole noiselessly out. And thus it was that when, late in the afternoon, the little Doctor returned, he found Peter and Paul, in large blue aprons, busily helpless downstairs, and Tamsin, bright-eyed and warm of cheek, seated by the sick man's bedside.
On the following morning, which the reader, should he care to calculate, will find to be Tuesday, Admiral Buzza dropped his newspaper with a start, and glared across the breakfast-table.
"What is it, my love?" inquired his wife. "Nothing wrong, I hope?"
"Wrong? Oh! no," replied the Admiral grimly, "nothing—wrong. Oblige me by listening to this, madam." He took up the paper and read aloud: