“A nurse from Hatherton.”
“No one else? I thought Lady Wyndale might a’ come.”
“I was goin’ to send over there, but Doctor Willett said no.”
“Did he? Why?”
“Not yet a bit; he says she’d be in his way and no use, and maybe worrit her into a fever.”
“Very like,” said Harry; “and how’s the boy—isn’t it a boy?”
“Boy—yes, sir, a fine thumpin’ baby—and like to do well, and will prove, belike, a true, open-handed Fairfield, and a brave Squire o’ Wyvern.”
“Well, that’s as it may be. I’ll not trouble him. I have more than enough to my share as it is—and there’s some things that’s better never than late, and I’ll live and die a bachelor. I’ve more years than my teeth shows.”
And Harry smiled and showed his fine teeth.
“There’s Fairfields has took a wife later than you,” said she, eyeing him darkly.