“I know you will, my boy; and as soon as we have set him on his legs again, you and I will grind the new speculum. The case with the two discs came down this afternoon while you were out with the chair.”
“Oh!” cried Tom eagerly. “You haven’t unpacked them without me, uncle?”
“No, and I do not mean to. We’ll leave them where they are till our visitor has gone, and then we shall have to work like black-fellows to make up for lost time.”
“Yes, uncle,” cried Tom, rubbing his hands.
“No; like white-fellows,” said Uncle Richard, smiling, “and I think we shall get on faster.”
The next morning there was a surprise. It was Saturday, and about eleven, just when Tom had dragged round the invalid chair ready for the invalid, he saw a sprucely-dressed figure, with a “button-hole” in his coat, get down from the station fly, pay the man, and push open the gate with a cane, whose ivory crutch handle was held by a carefully-gloved hand.
For a few moments Tom was astounded; then he came to the conclusion that it was not very wonderful for a son to come down to see his sick father, and he left the chair, and went to meet his cousin.
“Hallo, bumpkin,” said Sam contemptuously, “how are you?”
“Quite well,” said Tom hesitatingly, and then frankly holding out his hand.