"Half-asleep and half-awake I think he's been," replied Bob's mother. "I can't make it out. If he ain't better to-morrow I'll have to call Dr. Lyon in."
"Shall I go for him now?" asked Betsy Newbiggin, whose sympathies were not entirely confined to her trade in liquorice-water.
"No," said Bob's mother, "I must speak to father first. If Dr. Lyon comes he'll have to be paid."
The Duchess looked about the room. Bob was in bed, seemingly asleep. By the side of the bed was a hen canary in a cage so hung that when Bob opened his eyes (supposing he did not turn round) they would light upon the bird. The Duchess, standing by the bed, leant over Bob; and Bob, waking at that moment, said, as though he had just been indulging in a long conversation on an interesting subject and this was the outcome of it:
"Mother, if I die, give the Duchess my bird."
These words produced a shock. Betsy Newbiggin began to tremble, and the Duchess's heart beat more quickly.
"What nonsense is the boy chattering about!" exclaimed Bob's mother, patting the pillow and smoothing the bedclothes, and striving in this way to hide the agitation produced by the boy's request.
Bob appeared not to hear his mother's remark, and proceeded:
"You'll take care of the bird, Duchess, and think of Bob sometimes?"
"Oh, yes, Bob," said the Duchess.