The mother’s lip quivered for reply; but after stifling a sob, she gasped—
“And ask Mr Reston, the doctor, to step in.”
“I’ll run for him, mum, while the missus fetches Mr Lloyd,” said Sam, hurrying away.
A few minutes after, Richard ascended to Netta’s room, to be received with a smile of pleasure, and he took the seat to which the poor girl pointed.
“Are you better to-night, my dear?” he said, kissing her gravely.
“Yes, much,” she said, retaining his hand and keeping it pinioned between hers. “I want you to sit and talk to me to-night—mamma will like to hear—about our rides, and the woods and flowers. Ah, how little I’ve seen of the country and the flowers!”
She started as she caught a sigh from Mrs Lane.
“You could not help it, dear,” she said, hastily. “Don’t think me ungrateful. Come and kiss me, and tell me you don’t.”
Mrs Lane bent over her, and kissed her poor thin lips; and though the fount was nearly dry, a couple of burning tears fell upon the face of her child.
“If I could only be at rest about you,” said Netta, drawing her mother closer to her, “I could be so happy. There, we’ve asked Mr Lloyd to come, and here is a welcome.”