Uncle Richard bowed his head, and the housekeeper went on—
“Don’t you think, sir, if it could anyhow be managed, you ought to try and get him down here again? You know how much better he grew while he was here.”
“Yes,” said Uncle Richard quietly, as he went on with his breakfast.
“And though I’m not clever as a nurse, you know, sir, I’d do anything I could to make him well.”
“I do know it, Mrs Fidler,” said Uncle Richard warmly; “but,” he added, with his face growing more grave, “he will not come down here again.”
Mrs Fidler sighed, and Tom kept his eyes fixed upon his coffee-cup.
The breakfast passed off very silently, and as soon as it was over, Uncle Richard went into the next room, when Mrs Fidler seized upon the opportunity to speak.
“I feel as if I must say it, Master Tom,” she said, in a low tone of voice, “and I know you won’t tell your uncle, but I don’t like Mr James Brandon a bit, and I don’t like his son; but if master will bring him down there’s nothing I won’t do to try and make him well; and I do assure you, Master Tom, that there’s a deal more in good jellies and very strong beef-tea than there is in doctors’ stuff.”
“They’re much nicer,” said Tom, smiling.
“Ah, but it isn’t all that, sir; it’s the strength there is in them. Perhaps master might like me to go up and nurse his brother.”