"Oh, yes, certainly; and the children, what of them?"
The doctor glanced for the first time towards the sofa where the two children sat, Jack propped up with pillows, and Betty close beside him, holding his hand. He remembered what Winifred had said about the little crippled boy, and his face softened.
"We must see about them by and by," he said, "and in the meantime I think we can count on their keeping quiet."
"Oh, yes, sir," said Betty eagerly; "Jack is always very quiet indeed, and I won't make any noise."
"That's right. You are both going to be brave little people, I know, and perhaps by and by you may like to go and make a little visit to some of your friends, just until your mother gets stronger."
"We haven't any friends," said Betty; "we don't know any one at all, except Mrs. Hamilton and Winifred."
The doctor looked surprised, and a little troubled.
"No friends?" he repeated; "no aunts or cousins?"
Betty shook her head.
"We have an uncle in England," she said, "but we've never seen him. We haven't any relations in this country. Mother has her pupils, but we don't know any of them."