"Best let her keep abed," said Seth, placing his hand on the Duchess's forehead, which was hot and dry; "she's caught cold maybe; she'll be all right to-morrow."
Among the Duchess's acquaintances in Rosemary Lane was a cousin of Betsy Newbiggin, the vendor of liquorice-water. He was a lad of about the same age as the Duchess, and between the two a friendship warmer than ordinary had sprung up. A week before the indisposition of the Duchess, Betsy Newbiggin, hailing her, informed her that Cousin Bob was "took bad," and could not get out of bed; and the following day Betsy Newbiggin said that Cousin Bob was "took worse, and would the Duchess go and see him?" Apart from the circumstance that the Duchess was fond of Bob, the opportunity of going to see somebody who was ill abed was too alluring to be neglected, and the Duchess and Betsy went to Bob's house, and were admitted to the sick chamber.
"Hush!" said the mother to the Duchess. "Don't make a noise. He's been a-talking of you all night."
"In his sleep?" inquired the Duchess, not displeased at this mark of attention on Bob's part.
"Half-asleep and half-awake I think he's been," replied Bob's mother. "I can't make it out. If he ain't better to-morrow I'll have to call Dr. Lyon in."
"Shall I go for him now?" asked Betsy Newbiggin, whose sympathies were not entirely confined to her trade in liquorice-water.
"No," said Bob's mother, "I must speak to father first. If Dr. Lyon comes he'll have to be paid."
The Duchess looked about the room. Bob was in bed, seemingly asleep. By the side of the bed was a hen canary in a cage so hung that when Bob opened his eyes (supposing he did not turn round) they would light upon the bird. The Duchess, standing by the bed, leant over Bob; and Bob, waking at that moment, said, as though he had just been indulging in a long conversation on an interesting subject and this was the outcome of it:
"Mother, if I die, give the Duchess my bird."
These words produced a shock. Betsy Newbiggin began to tremble, and the Duchess's heart beat more quickly.
"What nonsense is the boy chattering about!" exclaimed Bob's mother, patting the pillow and smoothing the bedclothes, and striving in this way to hide the agitation produced by the boy's request.