"No, I think not; he is really sound now. But, oh, I am so sorry for those poor children; I am indeed."
"It is a pitiable case, and I don't see myself the wisdom of bringing them to Roxburgh. However, as Loftus wishes it to be done, I must look for the lodgings, or get you to look for them. I think down by St. Luke's Church is the most likely locality, or behind Connaught Crescent. They want four bed-rooms and two sitting-rooms for two pounds a week."
"I fear we shall not succeed at that price; but I will go directly after breakfast to-morrow,—if Susan can be trusted here. Guy must be kept quiet till after his luncheon, and the children are so apt to rush in."
"Poor little man!" the mother repeated. "He has but small enjoyment in his life; but we shall see him a strong man yet. Oh, those boys!" And Mrs. Wilton hastily left the nursery as sounds of boisterous mirth ascended from the boys' study, a small room on the ground floor where they got through their evening preparations. Three vociferous young voices were raised at their highest pitch, while Edith's shrill treble was heard.
Down went Mrs. Wilton, and at the sound of her footstep there was a lull.
"Edith, have I not forbidden you to interrupt your brothers at their work? Go up to bed immediately."
"Mamma," sobbed Edith,—"mamma, it is all Ralph's fault. He says—he says that Uncle Arthur's children are all paupers, and that if papa—if—"
"She is such a baby," Ralph exclaimed; "she says pauper is a bad word."
"Yes," laughed Cyril, "the silly baby. I believe she thinks pauper is swearing."
"No, she does not," said Digby, the eldest of the three brothers. "No, poor little thing. It is a shame to tease her as you have done. Come on upstairs, Edith. I will take you," and Digby took his little sister by the hand and was leading her away when his mother interposed.