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Yes; but it was quite another matter to be pumped, even by “Granny,” or to admit to any one but her own most secret heart that “Daddy” could, under any circumstances, behave otherwise than as the model of all the nursery virtues.

There was a short silence; then the Doña said, “Yes, poor man! It must be very dull for him. But I suppose he is beginning to see his friends?”

“Oh, yes, madam, the College gentlemen sometimes come to talk over his work with him,” and Nanny pursed up her lips, and accelerated the speed with which she was threading her needle through her warp. “It’s a blessing, I’m sure,” she added, “that he has his work to take off his thoughts sometimes.”

“Yes, indeed!”; then, after a slight pause, “What about that Miss—what was her name—the lady professor—Miss Fyles-Smith? Is she still working with Dr. Sinclair?”

“I couldn’t say, madam, I’m sure. She was very kind, taking the children on the river, and that—when Dr. Sinclair was away.”

The slight emphasis on the temporal clause did more credit to Nanny’s heart than her head—considering that the rapier she was parrying was wielded by the Doña; for it caused the Doña to say to herself, “Aha! she knows what I mean, does she? There must be something in it then.”