"When summer comes, you shall have a little garden, and some seeds to plant in it," said Letty. "That will be nice: won't it?"
"Well, I leave you to your missionary labours," said Agnes, rising. "Come and see us when you have time; though, as we don't want any particular good done to us, I suppose you don't consider us as neighbours. You might do some good, by the way, if you could persuade Madge to get on her feet again. She seems to think because she has lain in bed while she was sick, she can always lie there; and, all I can do, I cannot persuade her to sit up or try to walk."
"I do not think she can sit up or walk, Agnes," said Letty. "If I were you, I would not urge her over-much. Her back is weak from the fever; and I am afraid it will be a very long time before she will walk again."
"You don't think there is any thing really the matter?" said Agnes, sitting down again. "I thought it was only because she had fallen into the habit of lying in bed. Oh, what would become of me if Madge should turn out a cripple!"
"We will hope for the best," said Letty, kindly; "but I fear you have a sad time before you. I thought you knew what Dr. Woodman's opinion was."
"He did say something about her not walking; but I did not pay much attention to him," replied Agnes. "He is always croaking and whining. I dare say it is all his fault," she continued, finding relief, as usual, in blaming somebody else. "He is too full of his religion to attend to his patients. He is just what Celia Van Horn called him,—a smooth, psalm-singing hypocrite."
"He cannot sing a note to save his life," said Letty, amused in spite of Agnes's provoking words; "and I am sure no one ever accused him of smoothness before. I think he has been very attentive to Madge; and you know he is universally allowed to be at the head of his profession in the city. I hardly think—"
"Well, I shouldn't think you would be so ready to defend him, after he has been the death of your little boy," interrupted Agnes.
Letty answered, calmly, "I do not think, Dr. Woodman is answerable for my boy's death. Every thing was done for him that could be done; but the case was a bad one, and Alick was naturally delicate: I had very little hope of his living, from the first."
"I am sure you cannot have much feeling about it, or you would not speak of him in that quiet, indifferent manner," said Agnes. "But I suppose you think it is the will of the Lord," she added, in a tone of affected solemnity; "and that makes it all right."