red at that his doctor felt somewhat
startled.

"I thought you did not like fresh air," he said.

"I don't when I am by myself," replied the Rajah; "but my cousin is
going out with me."

"And the nurse, of course?" suggested Dr. Craven.

"No, I will not have the nurse," so magnificently that Mary could not
help remembering how the young native Prince had looked with his
diamonds and emeralds and pearls stuck all over him and the great
rubies on the small dark hand he had waved to command his servants to
approach with salaams and receive his orders.

"My cousin knows how to take care of me. I am always better when she
is with me. She made me better last night. A very strong boy I know
will push my carriage."

Dr. Craven felt rather alarmed. If this tiresome hysterical boy should
chance to get well he himself would lose all chance of inheriting
Misselthwaite; but he was not an unscrupulous man, though he was a weak
one, and he did not intend to let him run into actual danger.

"He must be a strong boy and a steady boy," he said. "And I must know
something about him. Who is he? What is his name?"

"It's Dickon," Mary spoke up suddenly. She felt somehow that everybody
who knew the moor must know Dickon. And she was right, too. She saw
that in a moment Dr. Craven's serious face relaxed into a relieved
smile.

"Oh, Dickon," he said. "If it is Dickon you will be safe enough. He's
as strong as a moor pony, is Dickon."

"And he's trusty," said Mary. "He's th' trustiest lad i' Yorkshire."
She had been talking Yorkshire to Colin and she forgot herself.

"Did Dickon teach you that?" asked Dr. Craven, laughing outright.

"I'm learning it as if it was French," said Mary rather coldly. "It's
like a native dialect in India. Very clever people try to learn them.
I like it and so does Colin." "Well, well," he said. "If it amuses you
perhaps it won't do you any harm. Did you take your bromide last
night, Colin?"

"No," Colin answered. "I wouldn't take it at first and after Mary made
me quiet she talked me to sleep--in a low voice--about the spring
creeping into a garden."

"That sounds soothing," said Dr. Craven, more perplexed than ever and
glancing sideways at Mistress Mary sitting on her stool and looking
down silently at the carpet. "You are evidently better, but you must
remember--"

"I don't want to remember," interrupted the Rajah, appearing again.
"When I lie by myself and remember I begin to