Mrs. Sykes waved a deprecatory hand, at once exhibiting and apologising for so much splendour.
"This is the spare-room," she explained. "And there," pointing to the high, old-fashioned bed, "is Ann."
Callandar crossed the immaculate matting gingerly, taking Ann on faith, as it were, for, from the door, no; Ann was visible, only a very small dent in the big whiteness of the bed.
"Ann! Here's the doctor!"
A small black head and a pair of frightened black eyes appeared for a moment as if by conjuration, and instantly vanished.
"Ann!" said Mrs. Sykes more sternly.
There was a squirming somewhere under the bedclothes, but nothing happened.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed the doctor, "you've got the child in a feather-bed!"
Mrs. Sykes beamed complacently.
"Yes, I have. It may seem like taking a lot of trouble for nothing, but you never can tell. I ain't one of them that never prepares for anything. Jest as soon as Ann gets sick I move her right into the spare-room and put her into the best feathers. Then if she should be took sudden I wouldn't have anything to regret. The minister and the doctor can come in here any hour and find things as I could wish…. Ann! what do you mean by wiggling down like that? Ann—come up at once! The doctor wants to see your tongue."