While Joseph was reading the letter the sound of bare feet on the cocoa-leaf matting made him turn round.
A small, rotund white figure of a child, clad in a cotton garment, stood in the doorway, finger in mouth, gazing gravely at the two occupants of the room.
“Nestorius!” exclaimed Joseph, “by all that's holy! Well, I AM glad to see you, my son. Where's Mammy, eh?”
Nestorius turned gravely round and pointed a small dusky finger in the direction of the servants' quarters. Then he replaced the finger between his lips and came slowly forward to examine Meredith, who had opened his eyes.
“Well, stout Nestorius. This is a bad case, is it not?” said the sick man.
“Bad case,” repeated Nestorius mechanically.
At that moment Marie came into the room, dignified, gentle, self-possessed.
“Ah, missis,” said Joseph, “I'm glad to see you. You're wanted badly, and that's the truth. Mr. Meredith's not at all well.”
Marie bowed gravely. She went to Meredith's side, and looked at him with a smile that was at once critical and encouraging. Nestorius holding on to her skirts looked up to her face, and seeing the smile, smiled too. He went further. He turned and smiled at Joseph as if to make things pleasant all round.
Marie stooped over the sofa and her clever dusky fingers moved to the cushions.