Virginie would not let them out of her sight for the rest of the day, and they took a dull walk in the afternoon, one on each side of her.
Towards evening, Miles gave forth an ominous cough, and was decidedly croupy at night.
Virginie's nerves always deserted her when the delicate boy was ill in his father's absence, and towards the middle of the next day she could stand it no longer, and sent off for the doctor.
Humphrey was very remorseful when Virginie informed him it was his fault that Miles was unwell, and remained in a state of great depression for about three minutes. But the sight of the doctor's gig coming up the avenue sent it all out of his head, and he dashed down-stairs, three steps at a time, to receive him at the hall door.
"Well, Doctor," he called out; "how are you? Why, you've got new harness to your horse! How jolly and clean it looks."
"New harness?—yes," said the doctor, dismounting; "but tell me what's the matter with your brother?"
"Oh, it was the mushrooms," said Humphrey, vaguely, and with his eyes running over the new reins and straps. "I wonder how long they'll look so fresh and clean?"
"Mushrooms!" exclaimed the doctor; "you don't mean to say they let that delicate child eat mushrooms? Has he got an attack of indigestion?"
"Oh, no," said Humphrey, springing down the steps and patting the horse; "a pain in his chest, I think. How glossy his coat is to-day, isn't it?"