"Be quiet, children," said Mrs. Death; and turning anxiously to Dick, "Have you any news of my husband, sir?"
"I am sorry to say I have not," he replied; "but your visit to the magistrate is in the papers, and good is sure to come of it. Have you got a teaspoon?"
With a pitying remembrance of Gracie's cough he had purchased a bottle of syrup of squills, a teaspoonful of which he administered to the child, who looked up into his face with gratitude in her soul if not in her eyes.
"It's nice and warm," she said, rubbing her chest. "It goes right to the spot."
"Let her take it from time to time," said Dick to Mrs. Death. "I will bring another bottle in a day or two. Now can I have a few words with you about your husband?"
"Yes, sir, if you'll step into the next room."
"I like brandy balls," cried Connie.
"So do I--so do I!" in a clamour of voices from the other children.
"And so do I," said Dick. "You shall have some."
"Hush, children!" said Mrs. Death. "I'm ashamed of you! I hope you'll excuse them, sir. Keep them quiet, Gracie, while the gentleman and I are talking. It doesn't do, sir,"--this in a low tone to Dick as he followed her into the adjoining room--"to speak too freely before children about trouble. It will come quickly enough to them, poor things!"