"I think I was told he is not your own child?"
"No," answered Meg; "they are our adopted children."
"What puzzled me was that his sister said his name was Dickie Seymour."
"So it is," said Meg, as if this were a new thought to her. "How strange I did not think of that; but he is no relation."
"The best thing for him would be to go into the country," said the doctor, considering; "but I suppose that is out of the question. Even then I doubt if he will ever—"
Meg looked at him startled.
"Do you mean that I am going to lose him?" she asked, not knowing how to put it so that Dickie should not understand and be troubled.
"No, no," said the doctor quickly, putting his hand in explanation to his own eyes. "But it would be a great thing to improve his health."
"I will think it over," said Meg, her thoughts instantly flying to her own dear mother and the little rose-covered cottage at home.
"Now, my little man, let me have a look into your eyes. Don't be afraid; I'm not going to hurt you much."