t. It's a
bad night, isn't it? Yes, I feel it in my throat, and it goes right
through my chest--just 'ere, look! And I haven't slep' not a hour a
night this last week; it makes me feel that low. I want to get to the
Orspital, if I can, in a day or two.'

'But doesn't the doctor come still?' asked Sidney, drawing a chair near
to her.

'Well, I didn't think it was right to go on payin' him, an' that's the
truth. I'll go to the Orspital, an' they'll give me somethin'. I look
bad, don't I, Sidney?'

'You look as if you'd no business to be out of bed,' returned the young
man in a grumbling voice.

'Oh, I _can't_ lie still, so it's no use talkin'! But see, I want to
speak about Clara. That woman Mrs. Tubbs has been here to see me,
talkin' an' talkin'. She says she'll give Clara five shillin' a week,
as well as board an' lodge her. I don't know what to do about it, that
I don't. Clara, she's that set on goin', an' her father's that set
against it. It seems as if it 'ud be a good thing, don't it, Sidney? I
know _you_ don't want her to go, but what's to be done? What _is_ to be
done?'

Her wailing voice caused the baby to wail likewise. Kirkwood looked
about the room with face set in anxious discontent.

'Is it no use, Mrs. Hewett?' he exclaimed suddenly, turning to her.
'Does she mean it? Won't she ever listen to me?'

The woman shook her head miserably; her eyes filled with tears.

'I've done all I could,' she replied, half sobbing. 'I have; you know I
have, Sidney! She's that 'eadstrong, it seems as if she wouldn't listen
to nobody--at least nobody as we knows anything about.'

'What do you mean by that?' he inquired abruptly. 'Do you think there's
any one else?'

'How can I tell? I've got no reason for thinkin' it, but how can I
tell? No, I believe it's nothin' but her self-will an' the fancies
she's got into her 'ead. Both her an' Bob, there's no doin' nothin'
with them. Bob, he's that wasteful with his money; an' now he talks
about goin' an' gettin' a room in another 'ouse, when he might just as
well make all the savin' he can. But no, that ain't his idea, nor yet
his sister's. I suppose it's their mother as they take after, though
their father he won't own to it, an' I don't blame him for not speakin'
ill of her as is gone. I should be that wretched if I thought my own
was goin' to turn out the same. But there's John, he ain't a wasteful
man; no one can't say it of him. He's got his fancies, but they've
neve