He was very miserable, and in a good deal of bodily pain, but the trouble seemed to be the worse part, and it was just occurring to him that he felt very sick and faint and that a draught of water would do him good, when there was a sharp tap at the door after the handle had been tried.
“Uncle!” thought the lad, and the blood flushed painfully to his face.
Then the tap was repeated.
“Master Aleck, Master Aleck!”
“Yes.”
“I’ve brought you up some dinner on a tray.”
“I don’t want any—I couldn’t eat it,” said the boy, bitterly.
“Don’t tell me, my dear. You do want something—you must; and you can eat it if you try. Now, do come and open the door, please, or you’ll be ill.”
Aleck rose with a sigh and crossed the room, and the maid came in with a covered plate of something hot which emitted an appetising odour.
“It’s very good of you, Jane,” began Aleck; “but—”