‘Has he been drinking?’

’Upon my word, I don’t know, uncle.  I think not, for Janet has been with him.  But, uncle—­’

‘Well, dear—­but just give me a little more of that tipple.’

Mary prepared the tumbler, and as she handed it to him, she said, ’Frank Gresham has been here to-day.’

The doctor swallowed his draught, and put down the glass before he made any reply, and even then he said but little.

‘Oh!  Frank Gresham.’

‘Yes, uncle.’

‘You thought him looking pretty well?’

‘Yes, uncle; he was very well, I believe.’

Dr Thorne had nothing more to say, so he got up and went to his patient in the next room.

‘If he disapproves of it, why does he not say so?’ said Mary to herself.  ‘Why does he not advise me?’

But it was not so easy to give advice while Sir Louis Scatcherd was lying there in that state.

CHAPTER XXXVII

SIR LOUIS LEAVES GRESHAMSBURY

Janet had been sedulous in her attentions to Sir Louis, and had not troubled her mistress; but she had not had an easy time of it.  Her orders had been, that either she or Thomas should remain in the room the whole day, and those orders had been obeyed.

Immediately after breakfast, the baronet had inquired after his own servant.  ‘His confounded nose must be right by this time, I suppose?’

‘It was very bad, Sir Louis,’ said the old woman, who imagined that it might be difficult to induce Jonah to come into the house again.

‘A man in such a place as his has no business to be laid up,’ said his master, with a whine.  ‘I’ll see and get a man who won’t break his nose.’

Thomas was sent to the inn three or four times, but in vain.  The man was sitting up, well enough, in the tap-room; but the middle of his face was covered with streaks of plaster, and he could not bring himself to expose his wounds before his conqueror.

Sir Louis began by ordering the woman to bring him chasse-cafe.  She offered him coffee, as much as he would; but no chasse.  ’A glass of port wine,’ she said, at twelve o’clock, and another at three had been ordered for him.

‘I don’t care a—­for the orders,’ said Sir Louis; ‘send me my own man.’  The man was again sent for; but would not come.  ’There’s a bottle of that stuff that I take, in that portmanteau, in the left-hand corner—­just hand it to me.’

But Janet was not to be done.  She would give him no stuff, except what the doctor had ordered, till the doctor came back.  The doctor would then, no doubt, give him anything that was proper.

Sir Louis swore a good deal, and stormed as much as he could.  He drank, however, his two glasses of wine, and he got no more.  Once or twice he essayed to get out of bed and dress; but, at every effort, he found that he could not do it without Joe:  and there he was, still under the clothes when the doctor returned.