Certainly this change was not propitiatory. Lady Hartledon, chilled and mortified, disdained to pursue the theme. Drawing herself up, she turned to go down to dinner, remarking that he might at least treat the children with more apparent justice.
"I am just; at least, I wish to be just," he broke forth in impassioned tones. "But I cannot be severe with Edward and Maude."
Another powder was procured, and, amidst much fighting and resistance, was administered. Lady Hartledon was in the boy's room the first thing in the morning. One grand quality in her was, that she never visited her vexation on the children; and Edward, in spite of his unamiable behaviour, did at heart love her, whilst he despised his grandmother; one of his sources of amusement being to take off that estimable old lady's peculiarities behind her back, and send the servants into convulsions.
"You look very hot, Edward," exclaimed Lady Hartledon, as she kissed him. "How do you feel?"
"My throat's sore, mamma, and my legs could not find a cold place all night. Feel my hand."
It was a child's answer, sufficiently expressive. An anxious look rose to her countenance.
"Are you sure your throat is sore?"
"It's very sore. I am so thirsty."
Lady Hartledon gave him some weak tea, and sent for Mr. Brook to come round as soon as possible. At breakfast she met the dowager, who had been out the previous evening during the powder episode. Lady Hartledon mentioned to her husband that she had sent a message to the doctor, not much liking Edward's symptoms.
"What's the matter with him?" asked the dowager, quickly. "What are his symptoms?"