"She's like a cat you've forced into your lap," they said, "and it lies quiet there, ready to jump the moment you let go your grip."
They wondered would he never weary. He never wearied. Day after day he was saying the same things to her, and the end was always as the beginning. They came back to her entreaty that she should be allowed to go home as certainly as they came back to the doctor's house.
"It is a long time, you know, Grizel, since you lived at Double Dykes—not since you were a child."
"Not since I was a child," she said as if she quite understood.
"Then you went to live with your dear, kind doctor, you remember. What was his name?"
"Dr. McQueen. I love him."
"But he died, and he left you his house to live in. It is your home, Grizel. He would be so grieved if he thought you did not make it your home."
"It is my home," she said proudly; but when they returned to it she was loath to go in. "I want to go home!" she begged.
One day he took her to her rooms in Corp's house, thinking her old furniture would please her; and that was the day when she rocked her arms joyously again. But it was not the furniture that made her so happy; it was Corp's baby.
"Oh, oh!" she cried in rapture, and held out her arms; and he ran into them, for there was still one person in Thrums who had no fear of Grizel.