He had marked the coolness which had separated Lizzie of late from Mrs Courtney and her daughter, and he had his own suspicions on the subject; but he had not presumed to put them into words.
‘They didn’t think so. They were quite satisfied to let me follow my own wishes,’ replied the girl quietly.
‘And how is your nurse-child? Thriving?’
Lizzie’s eyes sparkled.
‘Beautifully, thank you. She is growing such a dear little creature, and knows me as well as possible.’
‘Have you had her baptised?’
‘How strange you should ask me that question,’ remarked Lizzie thoughtfully, looking up from her work. ‘It is the very thing I was about to consult you on! How often we seem to have the same ideas at the same moment! I think you must be a wizard, and read my thoughts!’
‘It is because we are so much in sympathy with each other, Lizzie. But what about the mysterious baby? Have you decided on the name you will call her?’
‘No; I have never troubled my head about it. Any name will do.’
‘Oh, poor little lady! let us give her a pretty one whilst we are about it. Why not call her after yourself?’