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"Thanks, Charlie," whispered his mother. "I am grieved for that
poor young thing. I wish I could go myself. And, Charlie, would
you cast an eye round, and see how things look in their rooms? You
have always been my daughter."
"Ah! my vocation is gone! Three in one day! I wonder which is the
best of the lot. I bet upon Miles's Cape Gooseberry.--Tired, mother
darling? Shall I send in nurse? I must be off, if I am to catch
the 12.30 train."
He bent to kiss the face, which was too delicately shaped and tinted
to look old enough to be in expectation of three daughters-in-law.
No, prostrate as she was upon pillows, Mrs. Charnock Poynsett did
not look as if she had attained fifty years. She was lady of
Compton Poynsett in her own right; and had been so early married and
widowed, as to have been the most efficient parental influence her
five sons had ever known; and their beautiful young mother had been
the object of their adoration from the nursery upwards, so that she
laughed at people who talked of the trouble and anxiety of rearing
sons.


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