“If he does come to-night,” said Tom.
“Oh, he will, my dear, if he possibly can, you may depend upon it.”
The housekeeper was right, for soon after half-past six the station fly brought Uncle Richard back, tired, but looking brighter than when he started.
“How is he?” said Tom anxiously.
“Better, much better. Your aunt says a change came over him soon after we had gone, my boy, and the doctor thinks that he will come round now.”
Tom looked very hard in his uncle’s eyes, and Uncle Richard looked very hard in his, but neither of them spoke. They each thought the same thing though, and that was, that the doctor had said he had something upon his mind. That something was no longer there, and its removal had achieved what no medical man could have done, and so quickly that it seemed to be like a miracle.
A week passed, and two answers to letters of inquiry came down to Heatherleigh, both saying that Uncle James was improving fast.
Another week, and only one letter came, with the same report.
The next week a short acknowledgment came from Sam, to say that his father was nearly well, and had gone down to Bournemouth for a change.
“I think, Tom, we may as well finish the telescope,” said Uncle Richard dryly. “Let’s set to work at once.”