"A boarding school?" Mr. Shawyer asked, and the Beggar Man said "Yes, and a top-hole one too! I don't mind the expense, but it's got to be a first-class place, and with a woman at its head who'll be kind to a couple of poor little motherless kids."
Mr. Shawyer brought his wife along. She had no children of her own, but she adored children, and had endless understanding and sympathy for them.
She was only too eager to hunt for a school for the twins. She was like a delighted child with a new doll, or, rather, two new dolls, when one afternoon she was introduced to the twins—rather sad-faced little mites now, in their black and white frocks.
"She's the right one, thank heaven," the Beggar Man thought, as he saw the way in which she took them both to her heart, and he heaved a deep sigh of relief, for he had been greatly worried with so much responsibility all at once.
But Mrs. Shawyer took it from him willingly; she shopped for the twins, and found them a school in the country within driving distance of her own home.
"I'll look after them, don't you worry, Mr. Forrester," she told him. "They'll be as happy as the day is long."
She wanted to carry them off then and there, but Forrester knew he could not take them without first telling Faith, and that was a duty which he dreaded.
He consulted Peg about it. What ought he to do? Was Faith well enough to see him yet? Peg looked away guiltily.
"She's been well enough for some time," she said honestly. "But every time I mention it to her she seems to shrivel up, so you'd best go in of your own accord, and I'll know nothing about it."
There was a little smile in her eyes as she watched him turn towards Faith's room. He was so big and burly and strong-looking, but she was not one whit deceived, and she knew that he was as nervous as a girl as he knocked at his wife's door.