The young doctor was very attentive, but one evening he left the bedside looking more thoughtful than usual. Mrs. Mackenzie seemed to be dozing, so after keeping his fingers on her pale wrist for a time, he had let the hand drop gently on the coverlet. He looked at Mrs. Malony as he passed out, and she followed him to the landing.
"I don't think," he said, "we can keep her."
"Och and och!" cried Mrs. Malony, with her rough apron to her eyes. "Och and och, dhoctor dear, is it come to this?—so soon and sudden."
"I fear," he said, "she cannot last long."
"And is there no physic ye can think av at all, at all, that—"
"Oh, hang physic!" cried the doctor. "It isn't physic she wants, Mrs. Malony, but good wine and beef-tea."
"An' would the tay and the wine take her from the bhrink av the grave, dhoctor dear?"
"It would give her a chance. Don't leave her, Mrs. Malony; don't leave her! I fear I can do little more."
Mrs. Malony went back to the quiet room. Her patient seemed sleeping, and so she moved about like a mouse, lest she should disturb her.
The spring sun was shining in through the window and falling on a bunch of early flowers that Little Peter had brought the invalid, because he knew she loved them. It fell also on the canary's cage. Even Dick had given up singing lately, as if he knew there was sadness and grief in the air.