“It is my wife, sir, she—”
So William, whom I had favoured in so many ways, was a married man. I felt that this was the greatest liberty of all.
I gathered that the troublesome woman was ailing, and as one who likes after dinner to believe that there is no distress in the world, I desired to be told by William that the signals meant her return to health. He answered inconsiderately, however, that the doctor feared the worst.
“Bah, the doctor,” I said in a rage.
“Yes, sir,” said William.
“What is her confounded ailment?”
“She was allus one of the delicate kind, but full of spirit, and you see, sir, she has had a baby-girl lately—”
“William, how dare you,” I said, but in the same moment I saw that this father might be useful to me. “How does your baby sleep, William?” I asked in a low voice, “how does she wake up? what do you put in her bath?”
I saw surprise in his face, so I hurried on without waiting for an answer. “That little girl comes here with a message from your wife?”
“Yes, sir, every evening; she's my eldest, and three nods from her means that the missus is a little better.”