"Call the nurse to take him," she said. But Dickie held out his arms.
"Oh, mother," he said, and it was the first time in all his life that he had spoken that word to any one. "Mother, do let me hold him."
A warm, stiff bundle was put into his careful arms, and his little brother instantly caught at his hair. It hurt, but Dickie liked it.
The lady went to one of the carved cabinets and with a bright key from a very bright bunch unlocked one of the heavy panelled doors. She drew out of the darkness within a dull-coloured leather bag embroidered in gold thread and crimson silk.
"He has forgot," said Sir Richard in an undertone, "what it was that the grandfather promised him. Though he has well earned the same. 'Tis the fever."
The mother put the bag in Dickie's hands.
"Count it out," she said, taking her babe from him; and Dickie untied the leathern string, and poured out on to the polished long table what the bag held. Twenty gold pieces.
"And all with the image of our late dear Queen," said the mother; "the image of that incomparable virgin Majesty whose example is a beacon for all time to all virtuous ladies."
"Ah, yes, indeed," said the father; "put them up in the bag, boy. They are thine own to thee, to spend as thou wilt."
"Not unwisely," said the mother gently.
