"No, not exactly," was her answer: "I don't think 'afraid' is the right word. It is just this, Oliver: I do not get nervous about it; but I cannot help remembering rather often that you may bring it home to me."
"Then, my dear, go--go by all means where you will be out of harm's way, so far as I am concerned."
Dinner over, Dr. Rane hastened out again, on his way to see Mrs. Ketler. He had just reached that bench in the shady part of the road at the neck of the Ham, when he saw Jelly coming along. The doctor only wished there was some shelter to dart into, by which he might avoid her. Ever since the night when he had heard that agreeable conversation as he sat under the cedar-tree, Jelly's keen green eyes had been worse than poison to him. She stopped when she met him.
"So that child of Susan Ketler's is come, sir!"
"Ay," said Dr. Rane.
"What in the world brings it here now?"
"Well, I don't know," returned the doctor. "Children often come without giving their friends due notice. I am on my way there."
"And not as much as a bed gown to wrap it in," resentfully went on Jelly, "and not a bit of tea or oatmeal in the place for her! My faith! baby after baby coming into the world, and the men out on strike! This makes seven--if they'd all been alive: she'll be contented perhaps when she has seventeen."
"It is the way of the world, Jelly. Set up the children first, and consider what to do with them afterwards."
"What's this that's the matter with Tim Wilks, sir?" demanded Jelly, abruptly changing the subject.