‘Thank you, Sarah; I wonder how long you have been up; you will be fit for nothing next.’
‘It don’t hurt me,’ said Sarah, in disdain; and as Arthur shut his door, she murmured to herself, ‘I’m not that sort to be knocked up with nothing; but he is an easy kind-spoken gentleman after all. I’ll never forget what he has done for missus. There is not so much harm in him neither; he is nothing but a great big boy as ought to be ashamed of hisself.’
The night passed off well; Violet, with a great exertion of self-command, actually composed herself on awaking in one of her nervous fits of terror; prevented his being called; and fairly deserved all the fond praise he lavished on her in the morning for having been so good a child.
‘You must not call me child now,’ said she, with a happy little pride. ‘I must be wiser now.’
‘Shall I call you the prettiest and youngest mamma in England?’
‘Ah! I am too young and foolish. I wish I was quite seventeen!’
‘Have you been awake long?’
‘Yes; but so comfortable. I have been thinking about baby’s name.’
‘Too late, Violet; they named him John: they say I desired it.’
‘What! was he obliged to be baptized? Is he so delicate? Oh, Arthur! tell me; I know he is tiny, but I did not think he was ill.’