“We appreciate your lordship’s anxiety to learn of Sam’s condition, and I am sure Sam will express to you his gratefulness for promptly bringing him home,” added Mrs. Harris.
“I am glad he is able to be about,” continued Rutley, looking at the floor, “though I should imagine a few days of quiet rest after such a vigorous shake-up would be attended by beneficial results.”
“I am sure of it,” said Mr. Harris; “for immediately he regained consciousness there seemed to come over him a worry about something—”
“Dear me!” exclaimed Mrs. Harris, in surprise. “I cannot conceive Sam being worried about anything.”
“Nevertheless, my dear, the boy did appear worried last night, or rather early this morning, and though he spoke and acted quite rational, still it has given me much concern.” Again turning to Rutley, “And imagine my astonishment, too, when on going to his room early this morning I found he had gone.”
“He hadn’t even been in bed—had evidently not undressed—just flung himself down on the couch.”
“You don’t apprehend the wound exerts undue pressure on the brain?” queried Rutley, in the most carefully studied manner, as he looked meaningly at Mr. Harris.
“James, you should have insisted on the doctor remaining with the dear boy over night.”
“My dear, Sam would not listen to it. I think nervousness and a gloriously fresh morning urged him to an early walk, and his return has been delayed by meeting some friends.”
“Quite likely,” responded Rutley.