“No, no, sir; I’ve done with the doctor for this while,” said the old woman, to Ethel’s great amusement. “He have done me a power of good, and thank him for it heartily; but the young lady is right welcome here—but ‘tis a dirty walk for her.”
“Never mind that,” said Ethel, a little shyly, “I came—where are your grandchildren?”
“Oh, somewhere out among the blocks. They gets out with the other children; I can’t be always after them.”
“I wanted to know if these would fit them,” said Ethel, beginning to undo her basket.
“Well, ‘pon my word! If ever I see! Here!” stepping out to the door, “Polly—Jenny! come in, I say, this moment! Come in, ye bad girls, or I’ll give you the stick; I’ll break every bone of you, that I will!” all which threats were bawled out in such a good-natured, triumphant voice, and with such a delighted air, that Richard and Ethel could not help laughing.
After a few moments, Polly and Jenny made their appearance, extremely rough and ragged, but compelled by their grandmother to duck down, by way of courtesies, and, with finger in mouth, they stood, too shy to show their delight, as the garments were unfolded; Granny talking so fast that Ethel would never have brought in the stipulation, that the frocks should be worn to school and church, if Richard, in his mild, but steady way, had not brought the old woman to listen to it. She was full of asseverations that they should go; she took them to church sometimes herself, when it was fine weather and they had clothes, and they could say their catechiz as well as anybody already; yes, they should come, that they should, and next Sunday. Ethel promised to be there to introduce them to the chief lady, the president of the Committee, Mrs. Ledwich, and, with a profusion of thanks, they took leave.
They found John Taylor, just come out of the hospital, looking weak and ill, as he smoked his pipe over the fire, his wife bustling about at a great rate, and one of the infants crying. It seemed to be a great relief that they were not come to complain of Lucy, and there were many looks of surprise on hearing what their business really was. Mrs. Taylor thanked them, and appeared not to know whether she was glad or sorry; and her husband, pipe in hand, gazed at the young gentleman as if he did not comprehend the species, since he could not be old enough to be a clergyman.
Richard hoped they would find sponsors by that time; and there Mrs. Taylor gave little hope; it was a bad lot—there was no one she liked to ask to stand, she said, in a dismal voice; but there her husband put in, “I’ll find some one if that’s all; my missus always thinks nobody can’t do nothing.”
“To be sure,” said the lamentable Mrs. Taylor, “all the elder ones was took to church, and I’m loath the little ones shouldn’t; but you see, sir, we are poor people, and it’s a long way, and they was set down in the gentleman’s register book.”
“But you know that is not the same, Mrs. Taylor. Surely Lucy could have told you that, when she went to school.”