“No, down to my feet; it’s very long—stretched.”
“Are your feet warm, darling?”
“Quite,” and he sighed and closed his eyes.
She continued sitting by his pillow.
“When Willie died, my brother, I was just fifteen.”
Then came a pause.
“Willie was the handsomest,” he murmured on.
“Willie was elder—nineteen, very tall. Handsome Willie, he liked me the best. I cried a deal that day. I used to cry alone, every day in the orchard, or by the river. He’s in the churchyard at Wyvern. I wonder shall I see it any more. There was rain the day of the funeral, they say it is lucky. It was a long coffin, the Fairfields you know——”
“Darling Ry, you are talking too much, it will tire you; take ever so little claret, to please your poor little Ally.”
This time he did quite quietly, and then closed his eyes, and dozed.