Mrs. Pryor smiled.
"I am wandering in a pleasant world," said Caroline, in a soft, happy voice, "and I want you to tell me whether it is real or visionary. What lady is that? Give her a name, uncle."
"We must have Dr. Rile again, ma'am; or better still, MacTurk. He's less of a humbug. Thomas must saddle the pony and go for him."
"No; I don't want a doctor. Mamma shall be my only physician. Now, do you understand, uncle?"
Mr. Helstone pushed up his spectacles from his nose to his forehead, handled his snuff-box, and administered to himself a portion of the contents. Thus fortified, he answered briefly, "I see daylight. You've told her then, ma'am?"
"And is it true?" demanded Caroline, rising on her pillow. "Is she really my mother?"
"You won't cry, or make any scene, or turn hysterical, if I answer Yes?"
"Cry! I'd cry if you said No. It would be terrible to be disappointed now. But give her a name. How do you call her?"
"I call this stout lady in a quaint black dress, who looks young enough to wear much smarter raiment, if she would—I call her Agnes Helstone. She married my brother James, and is his widow."