"No, it is you who have been good—I'm not good; I'm bad, Francis."
"I know you're good, Mamsy, because you teach me to do everything right, and I love you!"
With a quick impulse she clasped him to her, but even as she did so, her face changed again, this time with an expression of pain. She put her hand to her heart suddenly and moaned. He watched her in terror.
"Get the bottle!" she commanded huskily, dropping to the floor, to support herself on her elbow.
He ran to a little bath-room beside the closet, brought a bottle and spoon, poured out a dose of the medicine and put it to her lips. Finally she sat up, listening.
"Somebody's coming. She is coming! Come here, Francis! Quickly!"
Taking him by the hand, she led him to the closet in the back room, pushed him inside, closed the door and locked it.
It was dark in the closet, but he knew its contents as well as if he could see them. Upon a row of shelves were account-books and papers covered with dust. On nails in the wall his own small stock of clothes hung, and in a wooden box on the floor were his playthings—blocks, a wooden horse, several precious bits of twine and leather, a collection of spools and a toy globe. He sat down on this box patiently and waited.
Presently there came a knock at the hall door. Madam Grant opened it and some one entered. He heard his guardian's voice saying:
"Come in, Grace, here I am, such as I am, and here you are, such as you are." Then her voice changed, becoming tremulous and excited. "Ah, but she's beautiful! May I kiss her, Grace? Oh, what eyes! Her father's eyes, aren't they? Don't be afraid, Grace, let her come to me."