“Yes; but what is the use of telling me that?” groaned Jack, with his eyes shut; but he opened them directly and gazed discontentedly at the man, as if feeling that it was hard and unfair of fate to let the servant recover while the master was so ill. “Are you quite well again?”
“Me, sir? Oh yes, sir,” said Edward carelessly.
“And I—I feel as if I shall never live to go far.”
“Ah, that’s the way of it, sir, I felt just like that; but you’ll come all right again before you know where you are. Like me to get you a bit of anything, sir? The kitchen place is splendid, and the cook would knock you up something nice in no time. What do you say to an omelet, sir?”
Jack ground his teeth at the man, and then closed his eyes and feebly turned his back.
“Poor chap, he has got it bad,” muttered the convalescent, as he went out of the cabin on tip-toe. “But I don’t think he’s quite so bad as I was, after all.”