The little man shook his head.
"No, Jemmy. You mean it kindly, and God bless you! But I can't do it."
"Why not? If I can do it—"
"You'd repent it, Jemmy. You're letting your love for me carry you too far."
"What put it into your head that I'd do this for love of you?"
"For Tristram, then."
"Damn Tristram! That youngster strikes me as causing a fuss quite out of proportion to his intrinsic worth."
"Well, but—"
"My dear Jack, I have reasons for wishing Tristram back. You needn't ask what they are, because I shan't tell you; but they're at least as intelligible as all the reasons you can find in that volume." He caught it out of his friend's hand, and read: "June 12th.—T. to-day refused his biscuit and milk at six in the morning, but took it an hour later. Peevish all night; in part (I think) because not yet recovered of his weaning, and also because his teeth (second pair on lower jaw) are troubling him. Query: If the biscuit should be boiled in the milk, or milk merely poured over the biscuit—" Here he glanced up, and seeing the anguish on the hunchback's face, handed back the book.
"I beg your pardon, Jack. But get your hat and come along."