"My dear John, how very inconsiderate you are! He will be so vexed! Why could not you have asked him for it?"
"It was a sudden temptation that overtook me when I passed through; and I am going to take them to Miss Toosey; and if there is anything else nice you can suggest for that poor little soul, I'll take it along with them."
Mrs. Rossitter was kind-hearted and liberal, and she promised to send one of the maids into Martel that afternoon with some invalid dainties; but John insisted on taking the grapes himself, and marched off with them after breakfast, regardless of the expostulations of his mother and Humphrey, who had other views for passing the morning.
As John Rossitter turned the corner into North Street he ran up against Mr. Ryder, and stopped to talk to him about the pheasant-shooting in the Rentmore coverts. "I am just going to ask for Miss Toosey," he said, as they were parting.
"Miss Toosey? Then you need not go any further; she died last night."
"Died!"
"Yes, poor old soul; and it was only a wonder that she lived so long."
John Rossitter turned and went on without another word, leaving the doctor staring after him in surprise. He went on to the house mechanically, and had knocked at the door before he recollected that there was no longer any object to his visit. Betty opened the door, with a red, swollen face and burst out crying at sight of him, and threw her apron over her head in uncontrolled grief.
