“Is Mr. Harry at the rectory?”

“Oh yes; he’s there now.  He wouldn’t stir from the rectory till he hears that you are better.”

“Why shouldn’t he stir?  Does he mean to say that I’m going to die?  Perhaps I am.  I’m very weak, but he doesn’t know it.”

Matthew felt that he had made a blunder, and that he must get out of it as well as he could.  “It isn’t that he is thinking anything of that, but you are confined to your room, sir.  Of course he knows that.”

“I never told him.”

“He’s most particular in his inquiries from day to day.”

“Does he come here?”

“He don’t venture on that, because he knows as how you wouldn’t wish it.”

“Why shouldn’t I wish it?  It’d be the most natural thing in the world.”

“But there has been—­a little—­I’m quite sure Mr. Harry don’t wish to intrude.  If you’d let me give it to be understood that you’d like him to call, he’d be over here in a jiffy.”  Then, very slowly, Mr. Prosper did give it to be understood that he would take it as a compliment if his nephew would walk across the park and ask after him.  He was most particular as to the mode in which this embassy should be conducted.  Harry was not to be made to think that he was to come rushing into the house after his old fashion,—­“Halloo, uncle, aren’t you well?  Hope you’ll be better when I come back.  Have got to be off by the next train.”  Then he used to fly away and not be heard of again for a week.  And yet the message was to be conveyed with an alluring courtesy that might be attractive, and might indicate that no hostility was intended.  But it was not to be a positive message, but one which would signify what might possibly take place.  If it should happen that Mr. Harry was walking in this direction, it might also happen that his uncle would be pleased to see him.  There was no better ambassador at hand than Matthew, and therefore Matthew was commissioned to arrange matters.  “If you can get at Mrs. Weeks, and do it through his mother,” suggested Mr. Prosper.  Then Matthew winked and departed on his errand.

In about two hours there was a ring at the back-door, of which Mr. Prosper knew well the sound.  Miss Thoroughbung had not been there very often, but he had learned to distinguish her ring or her servant’s.  In old days, not so very far removed, Harry had never been accustomed to ring at all.  But yet his uncle knew that it was he, and not the doctor, who might probably come,—­or Mr. Soames, of whose coming he lived in hourly dread.  “You can show him up,” he said to Matthew, opening the door with great exertion, and attempting to speak to the servant down the stairs.  Harry, at any rate, was shown up, and in two minutes’ time was standing over his uncle’s sick-chair.  “I have not been quite well just lately,” he said, in answer to the inquiries made.

“We are very sorry to hear that, sir.”

“I suppose you’ve heard it before.”