“Oh, nothing. I am always tired.”
“Do you tell Mr. Wainwright that you are tired?”
“No. Why should I tell him? I wish he would not order me to take that nasty medicine, that cod liver oil.”
“But it is to make you strong, my boy.”
“It makes me sick. I always feel sick after it, papa. Madame Vine says I ought to have cream. That would be nice.”
“Cream?” repeated Mr. Carlyle, turning his eyes on Madame Vine.
“I have known cream to do a great deal of good in a case like William’s,” she observed. “I believe that no better medicine can be given; that it has in fact no substitute.”
“It can be tried,” said Mr. Carlyle.
“Pray give your orders, Madame Vine, for anything you think may be beneficial to him,” Mrs. Carlyle added. “You have had more experience with children than I. Joyce—”
“What does Wainwright say?” interrupted Mr. Carlyle, speaking to his wife, in his low tone.