''Cept when she is asleep,' said Willie.
'Poor wee lassie,' said Annaple; 'there's great excuse for her, for the food has not yet been invented that suits her ladyship.'
'You must come and consult nurse.'
'And how are you all? I'm glad you are at hand, Nuttie! Is Mr. Egremont better?'
'As well as ever he is—lame and altogether an invalid,—but he has not had such bad attacks of pain lately.'
'And his eyes?'
'About the same. He can write, and tell one card from another, but he can't read—or rather it hurts him to do so, and he can't bear a strong light. But, Annaple, how are you? That child is wearing you to a shadow.'
'Oh! I'm quite well—perfectly. There, I think she is gone off at last. You had better walk her about a little, Emily; she will break out again if we try to put her in the cradle.'
And having handed over the child with only a very low murmur, Annaple left her combined kitchen and nursery. She flew at the flowers Nuttie had brought like a thirsty person, crying, as she buried her face in them, 'Now for beauty! Now Mark will be refreshed! Ah! here's a pretty pickle for a reception room.'
'Oh, don't put it away! I could help you; I do so like that kind of work. It is so like old times.'