"Has Doctor Blair been to see Minnie?" asked Madame softly.
"Yes'm. Old Angus 'e was 'ere on Monday, and 'e sent 'im. 'E says it's 'er lungs." She looked at her visitors with child-like simplicity. "Is it very bad for Minnie to 'ave anything wrong with 'er lungs do you think, Mrs. Adam?"
Madame's gentle face was eloquent with pity. "Doctor Blair is a good, kind doctor," she said evasively. "He'll do his best for her. You do everything for her that he asks."
"Yes'm. Old Angus 'e was trying to tell me wot to do, but I ain't much of a 'and at sickness. Minnie she gets up and gets wot she wants but I tell 'er she ought to lie abed."
The little girl had fallen into a doze, under the soothing touch of her teacher's hand. Madame took off the veil from her hat and spread it over the child's face as a protection from the flies. She came back into the kitchen. The idiot boy came in and rolled about the floor muttering and whining.
"And how's Mr. Perkins?" asked Madame. "Is he keeping well?" It was her gentle way of asking if he was keeping sober. The woman's tired face lit up.
"Yes, ma'am. 'E is that. 'E's been keepin' fine since three weeks come Sunday. That was the night Old Angus took 'im to the Harmy an' got 'im saved. An' 'e's ben keepin' nicely saved ever since. We've been 'avin' butter," she added proudly. "Ever since 'e got 'imself converted. But we 'ad to 'ave the doctor for pore Minnie." Her thin little face quivered. "If Minnie'd only get better now, we'd be gettin' a good start, an' we'd all be 'appy."
"Mr. Perkins has work now, hasn't he?" said Madame comfortingly.
"Yes'm. It's not steady, but Old Angus 'e's goin' to get 'im another job. It's ben rather 'ard on my man," she added apologetically, "just a comin' out from the hold country. It's 'ard gettin' work at first. An' I wan't much use with 'im a comin'," she added, touching the bundle reverently.
"So this is the only Canadian baby you have," said Madame.