“I’ve got a monkey. Would you like to come and see it?”
“Yes, please.”
The little boy looked delighted.
“A dear little fellow,” said the doctor, as Lady Aviolet took him downstairs again. “I don’t think there’s any need to be uneasy about him at all.”
He repeated the assurance to Cecil’s mother, who had followed them out of the room.
“I knew he was all right. There’s never been anything wrong with him; and this is simply a passing chill—and no wonder, after the heat in the Red Sea.”
“No wonder at all,” the doctor agreed. “He’ll be all right in a day or two.”
Rose Aviolet thanked him, but it struck him that her mother-in-law was still dissatisfied. When they were once more in the hall, and Rose had returned to the nursery, she spoke.
“What do you think of the general health of the child?”
“Excellent, I should think. Heart, lungs, all the rest of it, in very sound order I should say.” He felt faintly surprised at her anxiety. In all the years that he had known her, Lady Aviolet had never struck him as the sort of woman to indulge in foolish, maternal terrors.