The true mother-love--the love which she had denied herself, a love which had been poured out upon Lucy since her father's death--found its outlet, therefore, in little Archie.
Under Martha's watchful care the helpless infant grew to be a big, roly-poly boy, never out of her arms when she could avoid it.

At five he had lost his golden curls and short skirts and strutted about in knee-trousers.

At seven he had begun to roam the streets, picking up his acquaintances wherever he found them.
Chief among them was Tod Fogarty, the son of the fisherman, now a boy of ten, big for his age and bubbling over with health and merriment, and whose life Doctor John had saved when he was a baby.

Tod had brought a basket of fish to Yardley, and sneaking Meg, who was then alive--he died the year after--had helped himself to part of the contents, and the skirmish over its recovery had resulted in a friendship which was to last the boys all their lives.

The doctor believed in Tod, and always spoke of his pluck and of his love for his mother, qualities which Jane admired--but then technical class distinctions never troubled Jane--every honest body was Jane's friend, just as every honest body was Doctor John's.
The doctor loved Archie with the love of an older brother; not altogether because he was Jane's ward, but for the boy's own qualities--for his courage, for his laugh--particularly for his buoyancy.