He closed his eyes, and appeared to sleep.
"I will see him again at midnight," said the doctor, and stepped softly from the room.
Rathbeal cleared the table, and arranged some manuscripts.
"We may as well work while we watch, Robert. These must be copied by the morning."
He spoke in a whisper, and, sitting down, commenced to write. Grantham lingered awhile by the bedside, and as Billy did not stir, presently joined his friend, and proceeded with his copying. He did not observe that Billy, when he left his side, slyly opened his eyes, and gazed upon him with a look of grateful, pathetic love. Every time Grantham turned to him he closed his eyes, in order that it should be supposed he was sleeping. The writing proceeded almost in silence, the friends only exchanging brief, necessary words relating to their work. Now and then Grantham rose and went to the bedside, and when the bottle of medicine arrived he laid his hand gently on Billy's shoulder.
"Yes, Mr. Gran," said the lad, "I'm awake."
"Take this, Billy; it will do you good."
"Nothink'll do me good, sir; but I'll take it. I _did_ want to see you before I went where I'm going to."
"There, there, my dear boy," said Robert Grantham, "you must not exhaust yourself by talking too much. You have taken the medicine bravely. Now try and swallow a spoonful of gruel."
He had kept it hot for the lad on the gas-stove.