“No, darling, why?”
“Did I ever see any kind face, like Mama’s, looking at me when I was a baby, Floy?”
He asked, incredulously, as if he had some vision of a face before him.
“Oh yes, dear!”
“Whose, Floy?”
“Your old nurse’s. Often.”
“And where is my old nurse?” said Paul. “Is she dead too? Floy, are we all dead, except you?”
There was a hurry in the room, for an instant—longer, perhaps; but it seemed no more—then all was still again; and Florence, with her face quite colourless, but smiling, held his head upon her arm. Her arm trembled very much.
“Show me that old nurse, Floy, if you please!”
“She is not here, darling. She shall come to-morrow.”