“Encouraging!” he said to himself as he returned to the sick room, thinking that after all it was very natural on his aunt’s part, for it must seem to her only a short time since he was a boy at home, when, upon the death of his mother, she had come to keep house.
Alison rose from a chair near the bed as he closed the door, and signed to him to come to the other end of the room.
“I say,” he whispered, “I don’t like the governor’s breathing. Just you go and listen. Its catchy like and strange.”
Neil crossed to the bed and bent down over the sleeping man, felt his pulse, and came back.
“Quite natural,” he said, “for a man in his condition. I detect nothing strange.”
Alison looked at him curiously, turned away, and walked softly up and down the shaded room, to stop at last by his brother.
“I don’t want to upset you,” he said, “but I feel obliged to speak.”
“Go on,” said Neil, “but I know what you are going to say.”
“Impossible!” said Alison, staring.
“By no means. You are uneasy, and think I am not capable of caring for my father.”