"You keep your spirits, Algy, wherever you are." The thin faint voice struck on Algy Barford's ear like a knell. He paused a minute and took a short quick gulp, and then said: "O yes, still the same stock on hand, Caterham. I could execute country orders, or supply colonial agencies even, with promptitude and despatch, I think. And you, Arthur--how goes it with you?"
"Very quietly, Algy,--very, very quietly, thank God! Ive had no return of my old pain for some time, and the headache seems to have left me."
"Well, that's brave! We shall see you in your chair out on the lawn at the hunt-breakfast at Homershams again this winter, Arthur. We shall--"
"Well, I scarcely think that. I mean, not perhaps as you interpret me; but--I scarcely think--However, there's time enough to think of that. Let's talk of nearer subjects. I'm so glad you chanced to come to town, Algy--so very glad. Your coming seems predestined; for it was only yesterday I was wishing I had you here."
"Tremendously glad I came, dear old boy! Chimney-pot attack fell in handy this time, at all events. What did you want, Arthur, old fellow? Not got a new leaning towards dogginess, and want me to go up to Bill George's? Do you recollect that Irish deerhound I got for you?"
"I recollect him well--poor old Connor. No, not a dog now. I want you to--just raise me a bit, Algy, will you?--a little bit: I am scarcely strong enough to--that's it. Ah, Algy, old fellow, how often in the long years that we have been chums have you lifted this poor wretched frame in your strong arms!"
It was a trial for a man of Algy Barford's big heart; but he made head against it even then, and said in a voice harder and drier than usual from the struggle, "How often have I brought my bemuddled old brains for you to take them out and pick them to pieces and clean them, and put them back into my head in a state to be of some use to me!--that's the question, dear old boy. How often have you supplied the match to light the tow inside my head--Ive got deuced little outside now--and sent me away with some idea of what I ought to do when I was in a deuce of a knot! Why, I recollect once when Lionel and I--what is it, dear old boy?"
"You remind me--the mention of that name--I want to say something to you Algy, which oddly enough had--just reach me that bottle, Algy; thanks!--which--"
"Rest a minute, dear old boy; rest. You've been exerting yourself too much."
"No; I'm better now--only faint for a minute. What was I saying?--O, about Lionel. You recollect a letter which--" his voice was growing again so faint that Algy took up the sentence.