What Mrs. Moss would have replied to this suggestion can never be known, for at this moment the attention of both ladies was attracted by the very extraordinary conduct of the child in question.
Gertie Heckett, who had long been wistfully looking up the street, suddenly leaped up and made a joyful dash at a gentleman who was elbowing his way through the crowd.
He was a good-looking, well-dressed gentleman, of about eight-and-thirty. Gertie Heckett’s pretty face lit up with pleasure the moment she caught sight of him. She was by his side in a moment, and looking up into his face with her wistful blue eyes.
‘Oh, Dr. Birnie, I’m so glad you ‘ve come. Grandfather’s worse—I’m sure he is.’
‘What makes you think he’s worse, my child?’
‘Because he gets crosser and crosser, and’—here a flush of shame came upon her cheeks and she held her head down—‘and because he swears at me worse than ever.’
Dr. Birnie laughed. He didn’t notice the pained tone in which the child made her confession.
‘Cross and swears, eh, little one? That’s a good sign, not a bad one. People are always cross when they’re getting well.’
‘Oh, then I don’t mind his being cross; but, Dr. Birnie, will you be very kind, and do me a favour?’
She looked up at the doctor timidly, as though she was taking a great liberty.